


Shall Your Wish Be Granted

by Dorotheian



Series: Canary Cage [3]
Category: CLAMP - Works, Tokyo Babylon, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, xxxHoLic
Genre: Apprenticeship, M/M, Next Generation, Post-Series, Reincarnation, Teaching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorotheian/pseuds/Dorotheian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki has waited one hundred years; now that his time is over, what he needs is to get out of the shop. Doumeki is dead, his great-grandson has grown up, and Yuuko's reincarnation must be out there somewhere. The consequences of Watanuki's last wish will be felt. Sequel to "In the Eyes of Doumeki Shizuka" and "Unending Winter" and continuation of the original XxxHolic/Tsubasa story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Premonition

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is a fan work derived from the manga/anime series XxxHolic, which was originally written by CLAMP. I do not profit from this work of fan fiction. I do not own the characters who I am borrowing from XxxHolic. I do not write canon, I twist, change, and play with what is canon. Questions? No? Didn't think so...

_It is night, blackest night where life sleeps, cold and untouched by heat or light._ _A star fizzles, snuffed out; slowly the dust reassembles, a beautiful cloud of red, pink and purple, swirling together, compressing, and then—a spark reignites._

" _Even the immortal stars are reborn in due time," explains the voice of a woman he once knew well, from behind his left ear, as if she waits just behind his shoulder. He turns, searching for her face even as she pulls away. He turns, but he finds nothing but a breeze and a swallowtail butterfly flicking its wings in the wind parallel to the bleeding_ sakura.  _Here, the place where he once said what he hadn't quite realized was goodbye. This place of wishes and dreams and nightmares from which he never left, where he has waited._

__"Enough. It is past time," the woman's voice instructs the darkness._ _

_The darkness closes in, coiling closer and closer, shutting off the vision as it once shut him away from Yuuko..._

**_"Anata no negai, kanaemashou."_ **

The dark pulls away so dizzyingly suddenly that Watanuki gasps and wakes up.

* * *

Watanuki shifts on the couch and searches for the light and, by the quality of the light, for the time of day. He blinks until the answer comes. It is a winter morning. The light is misty and grey. Watanuki sits up, puts on his glasses, rubs his eyes. It isn't fair, he thinks. Regret is already sinking deeper into his chest. It really isn't. She's come back, and it's like nothing has happened; he's still left behind, way behind her. That part of him hasn't changed at all...

But he can never let Doumeki know he thinks that — no, not Doumeki anymore; the problem now is Doumeki's great-grandson, Shizuka. But the two are enough alike that Watanuki expects that they would react the same way to such a thought, if they heard it. They would both nod silently, and turn their faces away, and hide their frustration, and do everything they could to make him feel like he was doing something wrong without needing to say a single word. And yet, their disapproval is a heavy thing.

_How can I believe the time is now? And yet Doumeki was reborn, in his great-grandson no less. Perhaps it is like that._

_Yuuko-san…_

The loneliness catches him off-guard again. Watanuki gazes sightlessly at the small videotape he keeps stowed away in one corner of the living room, thinking. He's had it ever since Shizuka brought it back from the job with the Inari practitioner. He doesn't even need to look at it anymore. He has Yuuko's simple message completely memorized. He remembers now. He sees her lips move, he hears the girl's breath shape two simple words:  _"Tadaima, Watanuki_. _"_  I'm home.

The wishing shop business was not about making life fair, was it? No. No. The opposite, if anything… That much he had learned while he was still young and working for Yuuko…

Watanuki takes a step, and he strides through the house towards the kitchen. Carelessly, his left foot knocks into Mokona, rousing the  _kuromanju_  from sleep. He keeps walking and slides open the  _shoji_  slider that leads to the hallway. Mokona, not upset in the slightest, gets up to her usual tricks. Mokona patters after Watanuki on tip-toe rabbit feet and slips into the hall behind Watanuki before he can close the  _shoji_. He doesn't notice her until she bounces up on the counter and announces what she wants for breakfast, loudly enough that she surprises him into almost dropping one of the pans.

For a moment Mokona pads back and forth on the counter, guiltily pressing down her ears, but her moods change quickly. Half a minute later she brightly bounces up to his ear and taunts him, "Betcha never let Shizuka see you so clumsy!"

"Oh, shut up… You pork buns are always too noisy in the morning. What'd you say you wanted for breakfast again?" Watanuki asks absentmindedly.

Mokona shouts, "Saké!"

Watanuki sighs. Mokona never skips an opportunity to drink, even if she never gets drunk. She's too like her master in that way. The bottle fairy tendency was one thing about Yuuko that Watanuki certainly  _does not miss_. "In the morning? Request denied," Watanuki replies. He takes out his white apron from one of the drawers, lifts it over his neck and ties the waist securely in place.

"Hn-nn!" Mokona cries happily. "Fish sticks!"

Watanuki simply shakes his head. " _Breakfast_ , Mokona. Or  _nutritious_  food."

Mokona chirps, hops like a bird, and finally does a backflip. "Omelet!"

"As you wish," Watanuki replies, pretending to sound bored. He quickly fetches all the ingredients and starts cooking. Mokona creeps closer to the stove in order to watch. Disinterestedly, Watanuki warns, "Keep out of there, Mokona. You'll get burned."

Mokona pouts. "Mokona never gets burned," Mokona says, but retreats slightly nevertheless, and lowers her ears so they won't get in Watanuki's way.

"You mean, Mokona has never been burned  _before_ ," Watanuki tells the  _kuromanju_  pointedly.

Mokona ignores this. " _Nee, nee_ , Watanuki, Watanuki. Shizuka-kun is coming today." Mokona nudges Watanuki.

"And how do you know that?" Watanuki wonders aloud. The omelet has finished cooking. He turns off the stove, cuts the omelet into fourths, and puts it on plates.

"I heard him over the phone! Hee-hee!" Mokona bounces from rabbit foot to rabbit foot. Watanuki allows Mokona to nibble on the nearest plate's omelet.

"Mokona, please don't answer the phone for me." It's a futile request.

"Aww…. But you were sleeping! And then you wouldn't know…"

"You could have told me  _yesterday_ ," says Watanuki in exasperation."But speaking of keeping in contact, you don't suppose you could connect me to Syaoran?"

" _Hai!_ " says Mokona cheerfully, and the blue gem on Mokona's forehead begins to glow.

* * *

Kurogane stares into Fai's mismatched eyes—one blue like ice, like cloud, and the other one an otherworldly,  _hungry_  gold, bright as the heavens. "It's time," he says hoarsely. "Isn't it."

Fai sits lightly in his lap. "Yes," says Fai, but he makes no move.

Kurogane grunts. "If you say so. Vampire.  _Kyuuketsuki._  Do your thing."

"You know I can't do that," Fai whispers, closing his eyes. It takes time to get into the right mindset, the right mental switch. But then he finds it. Quite suddenly, he sags bonelessly against Kurogane's body, like a human doll.

Kurogane catches Fai and guides his fall downwards, neatly catching Fai's sweaty forehead against the crook of his elbow. "Drink," he orders, cupping one large hand across the back of Fai's skinny neck. He is ready to press Fai's fangs into his skin, if necessary. It shouldn't be, but sometimes Fai's mind interferes too much with his instincts. Fai often waits too long before he admits that he needs to feed, exhausting himself. If Kurogane had his way, he would insist on regular feeding times, but this was the compromise they reached. Fai has the final say on when it's time to feed—and Kurogane respects it. As a principle it makes sense. But when the principle applies to Fai, Kurogane worries about the mage's absurd lack of self-preservation. As it is, Fai needs to feed maybe once a week.

For today Fai's body is cooperative. When his brain registers the beating of blood beneath Kurogane's skin, his lips part. Reflexively, his fangs bare and extend, sinking slowly and numbingly into Kurogane's pale flesh. Fai's hands dart out and squeeze Kurogane's arm to get a better grip, fingernails biting into Kurogane's skin.

That done, Kurogane lets out a deep breath. He allows the arm to which Fai is currently attached to fall heavily to the table. His other hand, trembling with strain, strokes the mage's blond locks soothingly.

As always, Kurogane feels the inexorable, magnetic pull that Fai's sucking fangs exert on his blood that causes his heart to quicken into overtime, and Kurogane has to struggle not to resist the backwards flow. Right now, while Fai is feeding, Kurogane feels he is at his absolute weakest. It's demoralizing. Years ago, the loss of his strength (however temporary) might have been the worst price he could think of. Yet when it came down to it, he paid that price to save Fai's life. Kurogane has some compensation in that he knows the blood he loses will replenish itself faster than in a normal human. In a fight, Kurogane probably has a higher chance of surviving blood loss that might kill a normal human. Fai isn't likely to think of that trade as fair, however. Kurogane takes care that the strain doesn't show.

Kurogane knows it is almost over when, as Fai finishes sucking, his lips relax around Kurogane's skin, and his tongue darts out to lick leftover smears of blood. The feeding done, Fai releases the crook of Kurogane's elbow and slowly straightens to drape himself over Kurogane's neck, where he rests, panting slightly, for a little while. And for his part, Kurogane also needs time to recover from the ordeal.

Finally Fai pushes himself away so he can have a look at Kurogane's face. "Kuro-pii, there's sweat on your forehead," he chuckles.

Kurogane sighs, about to push Fai away, but Fai stretches himself a little. With quick, catlike strokes of his tongue, licks the salt from his skin. Kurogane grunts. "You'd better get off now."

"Yeah," Fai says vaguely, and starts to slide off of Kurogane's lap when he sees the  _shiromanju_ Mokona watching them. Panicking, he hastily pulls himself back up, using the back Kurogane's neck as a lever. Kurogane growls, about to protest Fai's maltreatment of his body, but then he also sees the white Mokona. Mokona hops onto the table, projecting a familiar image.

" _Tch_. It's the Witch's assistant. Watanuki," says Kurogane, finally, none too pleased. It's not Watanuki's fault that he happened to catch them in the middle of something intimate, but he's irritated.

Although it probably couldn't have been avoided. It's been a while since they last saw each other; Watanuki doesn't check on them as often as the witch used to, and he's mostly concerned with Syaoran and Sakura. On top of that, time doesn't flow regularly between their worlds.

A bit overcome with what he has just seen, Watanuki looks a trifle ill, although his years as the shopkeeper have taught him to hide it well. "Not the assistant anymore," he mutters, then clears his throat in a business-like manner. "I'm the shopkeeper."

Kurogane blinks. It's hard to believe that the witch is dead—he didn't see it happen. Syaoran told them, of course, and mentioned that Watanuki had taken up her post. But the witch was the one who supported their world travels, not Watanuki. He knows her, a little, but not this kid. In fact, it's downright strange to converse with Watanuki when he had so little to do with their actual quest but knew so much of it. Watanuki probably feels the same, which is why he doesn't check on them as often or memorably as Yuuko did… And, to be honest, unlike when they still traveled under the shadow of Fei-Wong Reed, they haven't needed his help or interference since they left Clow the first time.

Fai is the first to recover. " _So_ …" he drawls, grinning mischievously. "How much did you see?"

"Wha—what?!" Kurogane tries to shove Fai off of his chest. Fai won't budge. Sensing the effort is useless, Kurogane slackens on the pressure and Fai, giggling, snaps back to his chest like a rubber band. Fai looks— well, as genuinely carefree and happy as anyone has ever seen him, actually. It's hard to tell whether this is because of genuine affection for Kurogane or because he wants to tease Watanuki some more.

Watanuki's skin tinges a faint pink. He doesn't want to elaborate any more than he has to. He coughs into his hand. "Enough," he says. "I saw  _enough_."

"Enough, he says. Stop embarrassing us." Kurogane stares Fai in the face. "Get off my lap."

Only Kurogane can say that line with such a straight face, Fai thinks, and makes a face. "Hmmphf," he grumbles, because his body feels heavy and he doesn't want to move. Fai carefully slides to the floor and once again rises again to his feet, only reeling a little. Kurogane grabs his arm by the elbow, just in case. The rush of power from drinking blood, as Fai describes it, is so forceful that he has trouble adjusting to the flux in energy and power. But just because Fai derives energy from this power does not mean that the feeling is much better than being sick. He's never mentioned this to Kurogane. Kurogane can see for himself.

"Gentlemen, I have business with Syaoran," Watanuki announces.

Surprised, the two men look at him. Fai blinks. "That so? Didn't you know? He's with Princess Sakura right now," he says.

"Why is the White Mokona with you, then?" Watanuki questions.

Fai and Kurogane exchange covert, guarded glances. It's Fai who speaks, again. "Actually…Syaoran's curse ended months ago, now. We thought he'd told you. Mokona is with us because we like to visit Syaoran once a month or so, but we're settled on…well. Where is ' _here'_  again, Kurogane?" Fai peeks at the former ninja.

"Tagui," Kurogane supplies.

Fai makes a face. "Weird name, nice place. Strikes a happy balance between the worlds we both come from…"

Kurogane makes a negative noise, looks at Watanuki, and says, "He says that, but the synthetic meat the islanders eat here really gets on his nerves. I myself don't have a problem with it. What I have a problem with—" Quick as a flash, Fai slips behind Kurogane and claps one hand over Kurogane's mouth. Irritated, Kurogane twists his neck, forcing Fai's hand to slip just enough so he could speak "—mph, it's always so damn  _sunny_ —" Fai's hand drops away suddenly, and Kurogane stops talking to gape at him.

Fai leans closer to Kurogane. "The food is a really a  _very_  small problem with this perfect country, Kurogane. You don't say you missed the snow, or something?"

Kurogane just frowns at him. "I don't expect you to agree with me about the necessity of snow, after living on Seresu. Bad memories, right?" He shrugs. "I guess it's time to jump worlds again. Shall we? I was getting tired of this place."

"Let's go," Fai agrees, peeking at Watanuki.

"Mokona!" Kurogane calls. "Take us to Syaoran! Take us to the Kingdom of Clow!"

The white pork-bun Mokona chirps, "Here we go!" White Mokona hops into the air, hovering several feet off the ground, opens its mouth and swallows up the two world-weary travelers before disappearing itself.

They arrive on Clow three feet away from the person they wanted to see, a couple of steps in front of the castle. A youthful but grave face, brown hair, distinctively tattered cloak, same sensible shoes and boots....

"Syaoran!" Watanuki calls, through Mokona, jerking forward a little with anticipation.

Syaoran turns to face them. He is smiling and his eyes are full with happiness. "Watanuki. Fai. Kurogane. I was just going in to see the princess." He bows slightly.  _At your service_.

Fai grins back at him, and gestures airily to Syaoran. He puts one hand on Kurogane's shoulder and tows him into the palace. There is only one person that Watanuki really wants to see, after all.

"Is it true? Is it true that your price is over?" Watanuki presses him.

"Aye. Aye. Yes, it's true," Syaoran replies.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure if you had also gotten out. You ought to have, but you never contacted me, and I know time moves funny for you. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

Well, that at least makes sense, though he doesn't like it. Watanuki changes the subject. "You don't look a hair over twenty-five," Watanuki marvels.

"I was lucky. Sakura is pleased that I won't be traveling well into old age. She was getting antsy and dropping hints everywhere that she wanted to start a family." Syaoran's smile is wan. "Mostly, it's that she thinks she's ready, but there are political reasons as well. On Clow, the crown princess does not become a Queen until she marries, and she's not considered secure in her role until she has children. This would give her the power to start making some badly needed changes in the country. Those problems weren't urgent enough, though, so we put marriage on hold while I was traveling for as long as we could. We got the married part down six months ago, when the terms of our wish expired. She's been happy and busy ever since. Speaking of age—you don't look a year past nineteen, although you must have been seventeen when your time stopped."

Watanuki's throat constricts suddenly. Syaoran sees the strain immediately.

"It hasn't been the same for you, has it?"

Watanuki slowly shakes his head.

"For how long?" Syaoran demands.

Watanuki bows his head rather than look him in the eye. Here in front of Syaoran, he is unable to explain himself. All his reasons become illogical, easy to explain away as irrational adherence to his compulsively rationalized wish to do something for a mysterious woman who did so much for him but did not actually exist. From the outside—he knows—none of this makes any sense. From the very start, it was in every way unreasonable.

"How long?" Syaoran says again, insistent, his voice rising.

He can't lie. Not to him. "A—a hundred years. And a couple of months."

"Six months, I would bet." Syaoran clicks his tongue, folds his arms, grits his teeth. He's angry. "Sakura said the ripples from Clow's sorcery have finally dissippated throughout the universe. That was how long ago it was."

Watanuki hangs his head.

"Your friends are dead, aren't they?" Now Syaoran's voice is cold. It had been hot before.

Watanuki nods. "All but—except for Doumeki's great-grandson. He's just like his great-grandfather." Watanuki laughs nervously.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would interfere."

"I would never!" Syaoran denies it. "Dammit! I can't...!" Watanuki flinches and looks up. Syaoran looks close to tears. "I would never," Syaoran says, more quietly. "That's complete crap. Absolute…" he shakes his head. "I'll tell you what I  _would_  have done. I would have come for you."

"Yes. And you would have tried to persuade me to take another path."

"Yes! So that you would  _change your mind_!" Syaoran shouts. "We could have found a  _better way_! We both knew that price wasn't right!"

Watanuki looks away.

"You shouldn't close your mind off to influences you don't like, Watanuki! What were you thinking? Your very life is bound up in your friends. Your  _nakama_. Without them you are nothing. I  _know_  what that is like. How could you…"

"I did. I won't regret it, Syaoran. If you want me to be happy, don't try to make me regret my decisions." Watanuki lifts his chin and his voice rises slightly. "The moment I begin to pity the path that my own life has taken, that is the moment when I have lost hope, and I can no longer live with myself."

Syaoran shudders and touches his forehead. "Okay. Okay. I get it." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. We've all made hard decisions we don't want to think about…"

"Yes." Watanuki's voice is clipped.

Syaoran laughs quietly. "I guess I can't blame you for not wanting to open yourself up to attack from people that you trust."

Watanuki's reply is mild, almost deliberately so. "As long as you understand."

The words intended to placate Syaoran inflame him instead. Syaoran's head whips up and he locks blazing brown eyes with Watanuki, nostrils flared. "Oh, I _understand_." His tone is bitter and searing.  _Don't misunderstand me: that doesn't make it any less unacceptable._

Watanuki raises his chin but says nothing.

Syaoran forces himself to stop and rein in his temper before he says another word. He's always had that peculiar ability to inflame or dampen his own feelings of honor and determination. It's one of the few ways he differs from Watanuki, who has never learned to bend his spirit to his will.

Syaoran squares his shoulders, calm. "This is why," he explains, voice low. "I didn't know if my traveling would ever let me go home to make a family with Sakura. I was happy to pay the price, but I wasn't sure how long I could hold out. I think I would have paid it even if I spent my whole life in expectation, thought it meant my own dearest wish never came true. So in that way I can understand you. But me, I—I never had to go through with that path. Maybe I was wrong about the future. Maybe I would have given up in fifty years; maybe I wouldn't. You did, and you faced that choice alone.

"That's why I'm angry with you, twin mirror of my soul. Your life is important to me, so I love you. What you chose that day was too damn sad. No one should have to go through that. But I didn't know exactly what would happen, so I couldn't do anything for you. And you made that choice for me. I would like to think that if I visited you, even for a little, then I could have made a difference and prevented some of your suffering." Syaoran's glinting warm brown eyes are no less flinty. "But you never gave me the chance. You took part of my half, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry," says Watanuki, after a moment. "I didn't want you to sorrow."

"I love you, my brother." Syaoran wipes his eyes. "You are my responsibility, mine and Yuuko's. I just — I can't help but feel that I've failed you in some way up to now. That there was more I could have done."

"You haven't. You've done your best. I could never resent you, Syaoran." It's true they haven't spent that much time together—though over the years they've spoken more and more often through the Mokonas—but ever since Syaoran first impinged on his world, Watanuki knew a special person, a person he knew on an instinctive level he had never felt for any other, had entered his life and loved him. It was the same with Syaoran's wife, Sakura, but different; as if he had always known and been close to her, but there was no confusion that they were not the same person, only that Syaoran and Sakura belonged together as one puzzle piece fits into another.

Sometimes Watanuki found himself wondering what would happen if a Sakura walked into  _his_  life. But it would never happen. His world's Sakura was his own mother, whom he doesn't remember.

Syaoran clears his throat, though his eyes are red. Watanuki knows he feels very strongly, but he also knows Syaoran can recover from the most astonishing losses with frightening aplomb. "What will you do next, Watanuki?" Syaoran asks. Already, Syaoran's shoulders are rising and falling as he breathes, guiding himself back to his center of calm.

"I'm still waiting for Yuuko."

"Why?"

Hesitantly, he says, "I promised. And—six months ago—she sent me a message. ' _Tadaima—_ I'm back,' she said. Today—today she said she would grant my wish, in a dream."

"Well, what are you doing here? Go look for her!" Syaoran gestures for emphasis.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. That's what she wants you to do." Syaoran is definite.

"Oh." Watanuki blinks. That was all?

"Bring her home, she's saying," Syaoran says, a little too confidently. Now Watanuki isn't as certain, again.

"I thought maybe my price hadn't been fulfilled, and she wanted me to stay. To keep waiting for her."

Syaoran shook his head. "No. She's there. It's past time for me to say this: get on with your life, Watanuki."

For a moment Watanuki's face turns perfectly still, as if he had been struck. Then he blinks rapidly to cover his pricking tears. "Yes, all right. It's decided; I will. Thank you, Syaoran." Watanuki makes a movement as if he's about to end the connection.

Syaoran leans forward urgently, before he can do so. "Wait, Watanuki! I forgot to tell you in all the confusion—Sakura's having a baby."

"She is?" Watanuki is surprised. "You didn't mention…"

He nods. "Yes. First try, see," he boasts. "We'll check on you when the baby has been born, probably in three months or so. Maybe another six, it depends on politics here."

Watanuki smiles easily. "Come, then. You're always welcome. And thanks for telling me ahead of time… I must make something special for your child, so it will be ready for you." The connection is beginning to warp. "Don't worry about me. Everything will all be over soon."

Syaoran shakes his head, but lets him go. "Goodbye, Watanuki."

"Goodbye, Syaoran."

The light glowing within the red and blue jewels on the Mokonas' foreheads slowly fades, and the connection is gone.

* * *

Shizuka Doumeki walks in. Watanuki knows without even having to turn around. He hears the  _shoji_  slide at the genkan, and the aura of the shop changes around him. Watanuki sometimes mistakes it for staleness and sterility before he finally figures it out — purity. Shizuka makes the very air seem sharper, fresher. Unerring as usual, Shizuka heads straight to the kitchen, and there he puts down his briefcase.

"Watanuki-sama."

Speech he had been expecting, but not the honorific. Watanuki starts, reflexively releasing the counter in front of him. "I told you not to call me that." Watanuki turns around.

Shizuka shrugs and his smile takes on a hint of smugness. "Yes. Yes, I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

Shizuka's slight smile fades as he turns pensive, listening sensitively to something in the air around him. "I felt like it," he says.

"That so," Watanuki replies, and pinches his lips together.

Shizuka looks up. He looks at Watanuki very hard. "I thought you'd be pleased with it today."

Granted, usually Watanuki would have felt a frisson of absurd pleasure to hear Doumeki's great-grandson call him that. Watanuki folds his arms and looks at the kitchen wall, to the side. "Not today," he sighs.

"Something happened, then."

"I suppose you could say that."

"Then why do you sound bitter?"

Ah, Doumeki Shizuka. So direct. Watanuki chuckles hollowly. "The former shopkeeper returned. Six months ago, now."

Shizuka blinks. "In May?"

"The Inari practitioner left a message for me on your video camcorder. You remember?"

"So that's what that was about."

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, not at all. That was just … the price."

Shizuka looks at him sharply. "Then you don't think that girl—"

"No, I don't. That's not her. She was just the messenger."

"Then what?"

"Syaoran says I should look for  _her_."

"Syaoran?"

"Of course, you've never met him before." Watanuki falls silent, and then murmurs, almost to himself, "Granted, Doumeki never exactly met him, either." Watanuki raises his head.

Shizuka asks again, "Who is Syaoran?"

"He is—me; me, in a way, but from another world. We share the same birth name."

"Kimihiro, you mean?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, no, our true name. They say magicians must grant themselves a pseudonym, but I never had to do that. For a long time, my parents gave me my fake name to live by, to protect me, I didn't even know my true name until … never mind."

"I see…."

The two of them lapse into silence. Shizuka is the first to break it. "Are you going to get me something to eat?"

Watanuki blinks. "I forgot about your discerning-but-bottomless Doumeki stomach. Ah, but these are mine, and Mokona's…" He looks at where the omelet plates had been. One is gone—Mokona must have sneaked in behind his back while he was talking to Syaoran. Only one is left. His. "Oh, never mind, then. What would you like, Shizuka?"

"Whatever you're having."

"What kind of omelet, then?"

Shizuka shrugs. "The best."

"The best," Watanuki repeats, a little incredulously. How can he live up to the best? That's a tall order. Mentally he starts remembering Doumeki's likes and dislikes, and he starts creating a mental list of foods to use. He crosses to the refrigerator and begins rummaging.

"Your own food's probably cold," Shizuka notes.

Watanuki shrugs. He can hardly taste it anyway.

"What will you do, then?"

"What?" Watanuki pops his head out of the fridge.

"About the former shopkeeper. What will you do?"

"I don't know." Watanuki frowns and keeps pulling out ingredients. He crosses to the counter and assembles them in a long line. He prepares the cooking pan. He cracks the eggs, and expertly applies the cooking flame.

"You aren't going to follow Syaoran's advice?"

"I don't know." Watanuki throws in a couple of ingredients, another couple of eggs, and lets the batch sizzle. "The problem is  _hitsuzen_."

"If it's meant to happen, then you'll find her if you go looking. Or perhaps you'll find her if you stay here."

"Exactly," says Watanuki. "So what should I do?"

"Whichever feels most natural," Shizuka replies.

Watanuki laughs under his breath.  _Ha._  No, that doesn't narrow it all down at all, does it. He wants to pursue Yuuko. But he's afraid that his own wish will terminate if he leaves the shop to go outside—

"It's been six months already, you say," Shizuka comments, tapping his fingers on one of the cabinets. "Perhaps she hasn't got a wish."

Watanuki whips around. "But what if she—if she hasn't got a—" He freezes, looking horrified. The store. She can't see it. "Now why didn't I—" His vision flickers, and he trips and begins to fall...

Shizuka reaches out and grabs both of Watanuki's shoulders, and props him up while Watanuki simply closes his eyes and breathes until he isn't dizzy anymore. When he opens his eyes, Shizuka waits for his signal, and then lets him go. Still somewhat unsteady, Watanuki stands on his own two feet.

"Eggs," says Shizuka, flicking his fingers at the mess. He knows when they're in the delicate stage. He doesn't like any burnt parts.

Watanuki checks them, turns off the stove and prods the omelet tentatively with a spatula. It looks okay. He carefully scrapes it off the pan and onto yet another plate, rummages in another drawer for some clean chopsticks, and hands it to Shizuka.

Shizuka takes his plate, picks up Watanuki's, pushes Watanuki into the living room and makes him sit down. Shizuka digs in right away while Watanuki sits, staring into space. Finally, Shizuka prods him, "Aren't you going to eat?" and at his quiet behest, Watanuki picks up his quarter-omelet and twists it in half with his chopsticks. He still doesn't take a bite. He's still thinking.

"I'll go looking for Yuuko, then," Watanuki murmurs.

"Aye."

"Thanks. I wouldn't have thought of that myself…"

Shizuka has a funny smile on his face. He  _is_  more expressive than Doumeki. Must be his grandmother Kohane-chan's influence—yes, it does remind Watanuki of her smile. "That's what friends are for," Shizuka says.

Watanuki nods, accepting that, and takes a bite. They eat in silence for a while, so the only sound is that of utensils scraping on the plate.

Finished, Shizuka lowers his plate and looks Watanuki in the eyes. "It is such a simple thing, but it was indeed the best. My great-grandfather didn't lie. Watanuki-sama, you really know how to cook."

For a moment, Watanuki just stares at him. Already, he has forgotten, and it takes him a minute to remember who Shizuka really is. His protest is a little late. "I told you not to call me that," he protests, but at the last he forgets his dismay and smiles suddenly, because he can't help smiling at the earnest folly of his younger years.


	2. Reincarnate

Shizuka turns the last corner on his way to the wishing shop and folds his umbrella, not wanting to hit the fence or the sides of the wishing shop. It might have unexpected effects on Watanuki's wards. Shizuka doesn't mind if he gets a little wet, so long as he keeps moving in this freezing weather… The rain droplets are small, and for the most part they fall softly, but when the wind kicks up, they really sting.

Shizuka hops up onto the porch and turns around, casting a quick glance at the road and the houses on the opposite side of the street, which might be watching him.

There's a girl standing there on the street. She catches his gaze and stares at him with wide brick-red eyes, apparently just as surprised to see a person there as he was; and then she turns and walks away. Her sleek ponytail, black as ebony and grown so long that it reaches the backs of her knees, sways in the morning wind.

There's something strange about her, but Shizuka can't put his finger on it. He can't think what could have been. Her bearing? Her clothes? The way she stared at him? He supposes he might seem strange to others, standing in the middle of a grassy lot that appears to the general public that doesn't have business with the shop. He shrugs and ducks into the shop.

* * *

After breakfast, they don't talk about anything very serious. Shizuka brought some DVDs he thinks Watanuki might be interested in watching; they end up playing a game and whiling the day away. Finally it's afternoon, and Shizuka suddenly feels like it's important not to delay anymore.

"Watanuki."

"Yes?"

"I have a feeling," says Shizuka.

"Like what?"

"Just a feeling. Come outside."

"To the garden? It's raining." Watanuki looks out. Yes, raining. It was overcast this morning, and sprinkling a little later on when Shizuka came in, but it has been pouring for over an hour now.

Shizuka hesitates. "No. To the street."

"I'd be leaving the shop, then," Watanuki says softly. He isn't exactly objecting, but…

"Yes."

Watanuki sighs. "Now?"

"If you want to find her, you'd have to take this step eventually, Watanuki. Anyway, I'm here right now. Let's get this over with. If nothing happens, then nothing will, and that's  _hitsuzen,_  but at least we should try, don't you think?" Watanuki nodded stiffly. He was really very easy to read, thought Shizuka. "It's scariest the first time. You haven't been out of this shop in a long time. I know; I understand. That's why we should do it now, while I'm here to help you." Shizuka stands, and holds out his hand.

Feeling broken and weary, Watanuki also pulls himself into a stand, and every so slowly he places his hand in the palm of Shizuka's hand, and they twine fingers.

Shizuka gives him a nod and pulls him through the house.

About halfway through the hall, Watanuki's throat threatens to close up. "We should get a—a jacket—" he coughs, and drags Shizuka the other way, to the closets, and there he roots through the clothes one-handed because Shizuka won't let go. He puts it on — Shizuka remembers his own jacket and snags it with his loose hand — and they make it to the  _genkan_  before Watanuki remembers that he needs socks, because if it's raining, then clogs or sandals aren't the best idea of the day…

"Just come out into the rain," Shizuka says. He has very little inflexion or expression, like Doumeki, but somehow Watanuki knows that he's trying to sound coaxing.

Watanuki shivers and fiddles with the fastenings of his jacket, and then almost wrenches his hand out of Shizuka's when he wheels around to find the socks and put them on. And the umbrella. And the mittens. And the scarf. Seeing that Watanuki's hands will be busy for a while, Shizuka releases him, but as soon as Watanuki is done with his tasks he catches Watanuki's hand again and securely twines their fingers together. His hands are so quick and firm that Watanuki catches his breath.

"Watanuki, I don't think we'll be out more than five minutes," Shizuka says patiently. "Do you really need anything else?"

Watanuki looks at the ground and shuffles his feet. "Probably not," he mumbles, shamefaced, and squeezes Shizuka's hand for reassurance. "You're probably right. The first time is the hardest."

"Are you ready?"

Watanuki takes a deep breath and nods.

Shizuka slides open the door, and they step through; Shizuka slides it shut again, opens the umbrella, and leads Watanuki to the street. Watanuki can't help slouching like a cat under the dripping rain. If he had ears, they would be flat to the sides. They reach the street and Shizuka stops; Watanuki bumps into him, then steps aside, so he is just barely under the umbrella.

The rain sleets down, and rolls across the street in sheets.

Watanuki is already completely miserable. "Are you sure about this, Shizuka?!" He has to speak more loudly than he is accustomed to be heard over the pounding water. "How long?"

Shizuka replies but Watanuki couldn't hear him clearly.

"What?"

Shizuka touches Watanuki's shoulder. "Soon enough—" he says, enunciating, and then he sees what he has been waiting for; the rest of the words stick to the roof of his mouth. He swallows thickly.

A girl turns the corner and dashes forward on their street, holding her school briefcase above her head for an umbrella, splashing water every which way. Her long hair is plastered to her back.

She's about to pass them when Shizuka steps forward suddenly and holds out the umbrella. His sleeve dampens steadily as he waits. "Here. Use this," he says firmly.

The girl skids, trying to the stop on the slippery ground. She quickly regains her balance, however, and runs back. She clasps the handle of the proffered umbrella but doesn't take it just yet. She slips the briefcase from her shoulders, and lets it hang to the ground in her hand.

Her eyes are wide with surprise, and a little anxiety. "Is it all right? I'm soaked already, you know," the girl says quietly, panting a little. "And you two are dry. It would be—a waste." And she raises her blood-red eyes, and takes the two of them in. "Wouldn't it?" She's right. There isn't very much of her that isn't somewhat wet.

Her eyes find Watanuki's, and Watanuki locks eyes with her and cannot look away, mesmerized. It is Shizuka who replies, insisting, "Take it," but the girl doesn't break her gaze on Watanuki's eyes. Unusually bold…

"I was not going to stay out here long. Come and bring it back another day," says Watanuki faintly. "Do you come by often?"

"I just transferred to this school," said the girl, looking at Watanuki carefully. "I've come this way since the new year."

"Congratulations on the New Year," Watanuki replies, stuttering a little, a bit dazed, and he bows, breaking eye contact at last. These are semi-automatic words he hasn't said in a very long time to anyone other than Shizuka or Doumeki, words that gradually over time had lost more and more of their meaning, until now.

"Let this year also be a good one," the girl replies reflexively, bowing. Her eyes narrow when the silence stretches and she senses that this means something beyond a single greeting. "You aren't an ordinary person, are you," she says finally.

The right idea finally occurs to Watanuki. A test. "Do you see this place behind us?" Watanuki asks, and stands aside so she can see beyond the umbrella.

She tilts her head and frowns, looking past him. "It's a house. With crescent moons, isn't it? It's an odd one. I had been wondering. It doesn't seem like the rest of the city here, so I was curious. It seems strangely familiar—a trace of dejá vù—but it's wrapped in so many different times and places—can you see that—?"

Watanuki says, "Yes, I see. Thank you…" and moves back to his spot beside Shizuka.

"Do you live here? You and…him?" The girl flicks her eyes at Shizuka.

"Yes, this is my home and workplace. He's a friend," Watanuki replies. "He lives at the family Buddhist temple. You must have heard of the Doumeki family."

An unusually strong gust of wind blows by. The girl staggers a little; her eyes widen when she looks back up. "I've passed by there, but I've never seen anyone."

"Someone is always there. Come visit sometime after eight at night. I'll make tea," Shizuka says quietly. "It's good to know one's neighbors."

"I don't even know your names," the girl says, confused. "But…" She clamps her lips down on her next words and shakes her head violently. This is not the place to reveal her feelings, feelings that are as alien to her as if they belonged to another person.

"Ah, I'm so sorry.  _Hajimemashite._ My name is Watanuki Kimihiro, and this is Doumeki Shizuka."

"I am Kochoushu Tekona. Kochoushu is written with the characters for 'butterfly' and 'master.'"

Watanuki can't help himself; he physically flinches. Shizuka looks at him askance. Watanuki shrugs him off.

"I should get going," Kochoushu says awkwardly, lowering her breathtaking eyes. She hefts the school briefcase, takes the umbrella, backs up, and resumes sprinting down the street.

Watanuki rounds on Shizuka. "You  _knew_ that was going to happen!"

"I had an inkling. I think—I think remembered."

"Well,  _I_  don't remember doing anything of the kind!" Watanuki grouses.

"No, it must have been a recollection of my great-grandfather's. I know only you could really tell if it was her or not. But she seemed to sense something also— We should go inside; you already look like you're about to get a chill. And you almost fainted earlier today." Right on time, Watanuki sneezes. Shizuka frowns and steers Watanuki back into the wishing shop by the elbow.

"But we were right on time—"

"I often visited you after school when I was young, didn't I? Since I turned fifteen, I think, half the time I went home to the temple, and half the time I came here to keep you company. I still remember how long it took to get here from there, and when I usually arrived…"

"I see," says Watanuki softly, rubbing his eyes.

Shizuka opens the front door and ushers Watanuki back inside. "She barely took her eyes off you."

"I know," Watanuki says softly, then looks down as Shizuka helps him out of his coat. "On some level, she's aware. But I'm not sure how much."

* * *

The next day, there's a knock at the door. Awakened early from his nap, Watanuki gets up and opens the door groggily, and there's the girl, Kochoushu Tekona, holding Shizuka's umbrella out to him. He doesn't take it back just yet.

"Hello. I came to return this, Watanuki-san."

"Yes. It's actually Shizu— Doumeki-san's," Watanuki corrects himself.

"Right...But you'll give it to him, won't you? Should I come back another day?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, you may leave it here. I will give it to Doumeki-san myself when he comes back."

"Okay." The girl turns to leave.

"Wait a second. Don't go yet." Watanuki leans out the door. "I'm sorry, I'm still sleepy. I forgot— I have to ask you an important question."

"And what would that be?" asks Kochoushu warily, reluctantly turning back.

"I'm about to tell you something very strange. That question I asked you before—I wanted to know whether you sensed what this place is, and you did. This house is a wishing shop—a place that is here, and  _not_  here, in reality. Most people can't see it, but you can." Watanuki leans on the doorway. "Therefore, you must have a wish."

Kochoushu shuffles her feet. "I actually thought so from the first. This place is—transparent, if you don't look properly. Sometimes I can see both realities at once. It's a little dizzying. Are you a magic-worker?"

"Yes, I'm a dream-seer. And I have a few other techniques as well. My official title is keeper of this wishing shop."

"I see," says Kochoushu.

"Do you have a wish?"

"What kind of wish?"

"I can't even begin to classify the kinds of wishes people bring to me," Watanuki says, and chuckles. "So I can't answer. Only you can."

"Hmm." Kochoushu hesitates.

"Why don't you come in and talk about it with me?" Watanuki suggests gently.

"All right."

Watanuki leads Kochoushu to a table, and has Maru and Moro fetch them snacks and drinks from the kitchen that he had prepared just before he took his nap.

Kochoushu sips her tea and watches Watanuki with an interested, curious scrutiny that's started to make him kind of uncomfortable.

Watanuki leans forward, elbow on the table, resting his chin on his bent left wrist. "You must have some idea…of what you want, or need."

Kochoushu's mauve eyes move back to her cup of green tea. "It's hard to say."

"Take your time."

She takes a few big gulps of tea, sets the cup down. Watanuki refills it for her.

Her eyes flicker left; then back to Watanuki; then left again.

"What is it?" Watanuki asks, resignedly.

"You can see spirits, can't you," she says, glancing sideways.

Watanuki nods. "Yes. I couldn't do this job otherwise."

"Then—" Kochoushu's brow creases, and her hands clench on her lap. Instinctively Watanuki knows that what she says now is a true wish, but it is connected to her most pressing problem. She's taking a gamble. "I want the power to see spirits," she blurts out.

Watanuki cocks his head. "Can't you?"

"No. Just—times and places."

Watanuki blinks. "You mean dimensions?"

"Yes. I suppose."

"Surely that includes the Otherworld—"

"To a degree. But I can only see the Otherworld, the Underworld, or Heaven in itself, when it deigns to impinge on our reality, which is rarely, and only in places where the physical borders are thin. Then I can see beyond. But when creatures from those worlds walk in our world, I cannot tell," Kochoushu says tersely.

"What do you need it for?"

Kochoushu shakes her head. "I do not deny that there is an immediate purpose. However, I believe that as I am drawn into the study of magic, it will help in the long run, for it is better to  _know_ , not to guess."

"Such has not been my experience," says Watanuki.

"And what  _was_  your experience?"

"That of an ostrich burying its head into the sand..." Watanuki shakes his head and leans forward. "What you see can also see you. As a result of that wish, you become a target of the Otherworld. Spirits will latch onto you, take advantage of you, beg favors of you, hurt you. Think well. Once you are granted this ability, it never goes away." Watanuki places his palms on the table and sits straight. "The danger is not one to be taken lightly. You will probably have fewer problems than I, for I do not sense the kind of sweetness in your blood that attracts spirits—so the weak ones will not molest you—but the risk of attracting the notice of the more powerful spirits is great nonetheless."

"How long have you had this power, then?"

"Since birth," Watanuki replies bluntly.

"You were powerless as a child. Surely you grew to learn how to deal with them safely," Kochoushu objects, "Later on. As I would learn."

"Yes, under the tutelage of my predecessor, and other people. She taught me how to deal with it, but the annoyances never let me be." He falls silent.  _Until I became shopkeeper_. Watanuki isn't quite sure that, if he quit the job at some point down the line, that Yuuko's protection would still apply. It ought, but Yuuko had never cast a spell or wrought a magic that he could see to that effect.

"Let them think what they think," Kochoushu says dismissively. "I will deal with it. If I am to be a magic-worker, I must be fully a part of the world I influence."

"You  _know_  you're a magic worker?"

"I know how to do  _some_  things." Kochoushu flexes her fingers. "Power will out… And seeing other worlds is conspicuous, I'm sure you will agree."

"So you want control," Watanuki guesses.

"Ultimately, yes. But the first step—"

"I see." Watanuki drums his fingers on the table. "You're right."

"I am?" Kochoushu says blankly.

"Yes. I may not like it, but you are. It's not a good thing to have a foot in two worlds, and be unaware of all the influences. Therefore, I shall make preparations to do as you request."

She bows from the waist. "Thank you very much."

"Don't thank me yet," Watanuki sighs. "This may be one of your wishes, but not your immediate wish as of right now. That I can tell. Sometimes that can lead one astray."

"I have not yet decided on a course of action." Kochoushu folders her hands together and considers them.

"In other words, you won't know until you can See," Watanuki says dryly.

She nods.

"A conundrum. Here is your price, then: service."

"How much?"

Watanuki shrugs. "In effort? In time? In kind of work? It is all variable. You will be done paying when the balance is struck, and at that time we will both know it. Probably within three years, if you have no more heavy wishes."

"The wish is that heavy?"

"It is. Very. Consider yourself apprenticed."

Kochoushu blinks. "Is  _that_  what this is?"

"My predecessor never said as much—she called it a part-time job—but I realized that was the actual deal only after the fact. What can I say? I was rather slow in high school. And I'd rather be honest with you. I could never be the type of person that woman was." The set of Watanuki's jaw tightens.

Kochoushu raises her eyes, and watches him. "When shall I come and work?"

"Come by after school, just like you did now."

Kochoushu stands. "Then I shall come another day."

"Yes."

Watanuki leads her to the door. Kochoushu slips on her shoes, and its about to go, but she turns and says, "I know I've never met you in my life, and yet you seem very familiar to me. I can't quite erase the feeling."

"I know," says Watanuki in a low voice, and leans over her to hold open the door so she can leave. "And it's true."

Their eyes meet one last time, so her eyes flash with concern, and then she slips out the door.

* * *

Less than five minutes later, Shizuka barges in, sliding the doors open and shut with a little more force than necessary, shakes his shoes off in the  _genkan_ , and pads into the living room.

"Don't you have classes?" Watanuki asks him, not looking up from some cards he's shuffling. Tarots, upon closer inspection.

Shizuka shakes his head. "National holiday."

Watanuki says, "I see," cuts the deck, and shuffles again.

"Did Kochoushu-san come by?"

"Yes, she just left."

"What did she want?"

"To be able to see spirits. Something happened to make that need urgent. She wouldn't tell me exactly why. However, control of her growing powers is a factor—which seeing spirits is only a part of. It's not everything."

"I see," said Shizuka.

"Care to find out?" Watanuki resumes shuffling.

Shizuka stares at him. "Are those…?"

"A little fortune-telling can be useful, sometimes. But you just don't do it in front of the kids. Eventually, they learn adult bad habits on their own."

"Mmhn." Shizuka draws up a chair and sits down. "This is a bad habit?"

"It's addictive, and informative in its way, but its answers are often vague. I think it was a trick of Yuuko's," Watanuki explains calmly. "She always knew too much. These cards are endowed with the magic to discover cause-and-effect ley lines in time through the  _hitsuzen_  principle. The truth of fortune-telling is, you are often scanning the past to view the possible futures the past might lead to. Of course, the results are rather general, but you can eliminate some outcomes much more quickly."

"So in this case…"

"I know Kochoushu-san's true wish, and some of the motivation for it, but not what the wish is  _for_ in the immediate future _,_ although she clearly has intent of some kind… However, I can use fortunetelling to discover that wish's direct connection to the past, and to the future."

"Interesting."

Watanuki silently deals the cards. Shizuka sees nothing very special about the process. Other fortunetellers he's watched at festivals and so on will do chanting, or singing, or humming of some kind and move mysteriously, but Watanuki's manner is entirely plain. Watanuki glances at the cards, announces pieces of his interpretation after a moment's thought, and moves on. By the end of it, Watanuki has three entirely different theories about what is going on. Shizuka listens.

"Only one of those is true, though?" Shizuka asks at the end.

Watanuki nods. "We'll find out." He swipes at the assembled tarot cards, scattering them into disarray, mixes them up, gathers them in, and reshuffles. He replaces them neatly in the box he found them in, lays the box aside, and sighs. "All three predictions require very different preparations. Of the three, which do you find least likely, Shizuka?"

Shizuka shakes his head. "I really couldn't say. They all seemed—contrived."

Watanuki gazes at Shizuka thoughtfully. "They may at that. Doesn't mean it couldn't happen, though."

"Perhaps there's an agent at work obscuring the truth, then?"

"Possibly. —Are you ready for lunch?"

"Kitsune udon," Shizuka orders immediately.

Watanuki heads for the kitchen.

* * *

"Mokona, is there any chrysanthemum wine left over this year?" Watanuki calls.

Mokona bounces over and knocks itself against Watanuki's knees, quite on purpose. "Yes! Let's have a—"

"Not for drinking, this time, no," Watanuki tells her, scooping up Mokona. Mokona pretends to sulk. Watanuki strokes its felt-like ears, all too briefly. Mokona quickly leaps out of his arms again.

"What do you need the chrysanthemum wine for, Watanuki?" Shizuka asks.

"Ceremony, of course…" Watanuki walks to the pantry and starts rummaging. He finds the bottle. Amazingly, it has just enough liquid for what he needs. He stares at it. He was sure they had drunk every last drop this year.  _Hitsuzen._  He shakes his head, and withdraws from the pantry with the bottle in hand.

"Any other pieces to the riddle?" Shizuka asks.

"Perhaps if I look among the prices my most recent customers gave me…" Watanuki muses, not quite attending to Shizuka's question, and starts browsing the shelves.

Shizuka glances at the girl. Kochoushu stands stock-still under the doorframe, her eyes wide. She looks at everything, trying to take it all in at once, and she can't. There's too much to see, too much history. "Do you see something?" Shizuka asks her.

Surprised, she looks at him. Finally sees something worth her full attention. "Yes…" she breathes.

"What is it?"

Her face scrunches with concentration. "An egg. I think. But it has no life… It exists in several dimensions at once, and it came from a different world, which is why I can see it."

Shizuka is shocked.

Watanuki overhears, but only in part. "Shizuka, what is that?" he asks, turning his head to look.

"She saw an egg that my great-grandfather passed down to me. Yuuko gave it to him," Shizuka replies quietly.

"To Doumeki?" Watanuki whips around and stares into his eyes.

Shizuka nods once.

For a moment Watanuki forgets who he's looking at. His surroundings momentarily fade into white. Watanuki touches the wall, reassuring himself that something is there. Reality reasserts itself sickeningly slowly.

Simmering anger seeps into Watanuki's bones.

There was only one way this could have happened, and that was if that  _idiot_  Doumeki, the more idiot he was, if  _Doumeki_  had deliberately kept knowledge of the egg from him _._  Doumeki kept it right under his nose, and had the gall to pass it on without his knowledge! If Doumeki didn't want Watanuki knowing, what could that mean? Nothing good. Of that Watanuki was sure, and it frightened him.

It takes him what seems to be an age to remember who is standing in front of him—it's Shizuka—Shizuka. Shizuka can't be blamed. It's not Shizuka's fault that he kept Doumeki's stupid secret.  _Doumeki_  at least would have understood what Watanuki was like, what this would mean to him, would have realized his act was one of complete  _betrayal_ …

Shuddering with rage, but now shamefaced, Watanuki quickly breaks eye contact with Shizuka. He turns to the girl and questions her instead. "Kochoushu-san, that's what you saw?" His voice is thick and strangled-sounding, but he has regained control of his face. She won't see him angry. He looks her straight in the eyes and forces himself to  _still_.

"Yes," she replies.

Shizuka reaches deep into his kimono sleeve and takes out the gray, fragile-looking egg with shaking fingers. It looks soft as slate-gray talc, but it is actually as hard and heavy as stone, with a smooth, even surface. "Here."

"What was it for?" asked Watanuki slowly. Heavily.

"You."

"Yes, but—" Watanuki's face pinches into a fiery scowl.

"I don't know. But she saw it. It's important."

There's silence, heavy stone silence, standing between them now. Without a grievance to support it, Watanuki's anger slowly wears away.

When he replies, Watanuki's voice is strained, though he has got better control of himself. "Do you know—do you know what— What did Yuuko say? Exactly?"

Shizuka clears his throat. "I'll tell you…" He glances at the girl. "…later. My great-grandfather made me memorize her exact words."

"I see. Then you know what it was supposed to be used for."

"Only you could say for sure, now that you know. But great-grandfather's impression was that you weren't supposed to know. He never knew what to do with it."

Watanuki shakes himself. "As it happens, given my training and Yuuko's resources, I already know what properties that egg possesses. However, regardless of how it could have been used and what purpose it was intended for—of which I have a good idea—" Watanuki scowls "—it had the potential for several different purposes, including the problem we have at hand, which happens to be Kochoushu's wish."

Shizuka nods, watching him. Watanuki's anger, so quickly aroused, took him by surprise.

Watanuki bites his lip. "We need the right timing. A special day and a special time when the spirit world is active, and good luck is expected."

"Yes," Shizuka agrees.

The girl shifts from foot to foot. "When should I come back?"

"Tomorrow," says Watanuki. "And every day after that." He rushes to consult the lunar calendar tacked up on the wall with Yuuko's notes scribbled in the margins, and flicks his gaze between it and miniature Gregorian calendar on the desk, trying to compare the two. "Although it will probably be a week or two before I can do it. I need time to do a more scrutinizing analysis. Perhaps sooner, if there's a particularly auspicious weather event." He sounds tired.

"Kochoushu, today there is nothing you can do for me here. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you could go through the town and neighborhood and catalogue the places where you can see other worlds peeking through, or boundaries wearing thin. Just note where they are, what kinds of things you see around them, and make a guess as to the world on the other side. Could you do that?"

"Yes, Watanuki-san."

"Thank you for your hard work. You may go."

* * *

"Shizuka," Watanuki says, shortly.

Shizuka moves to hover somewhere behind Watanuki's left shoulder. "Yes?" he breathes.

"What did Yuuko say?"

Shizuka tells him. Watanuki presses his lips together and listens rigidly. Then he strides away, facing the wall, refusing to look at anyone.

"Why are you angry with me?" Shizuka asks, finally.

Watanuki shakes his head sharply in negation, closing his eyes. " _No_." He lays one hand over his eyes and takes a harsh, deep breath. "No, no, a thousand times no, not you; it's not your fault that I need to remind myself—it's Doumeki. It's  _always_  Doumeki." He scowls.

"My great-grandfather."

"Yes," says Watanuki, trying not to sound upset. And then, turning abruptly, he loses it. "Well—and Yuuko too, dammit! The minx! Vixen! Player! Jade! Siren! Temptress! Vamp! That—damn—damn— _tease_!" Watanuki is almost in tears; he looks like he wants to punch something.

Shizuka blinks. "I didn't know you knew those words."

Watanuki glowers at him, his face inflamed, pink with shame. "I've been alive one hundred years, of course I know them. Just because I don't say them…" One tear slips down, leaving a trail across his cheek. "You didn't know  _her._ "

"That girl…"

" _Is_  her. But she's young, younger than when I met her." The color in Watanuki's cheeks is already fading. Watanuki, drained, leans against the wall.

"How old were you when you met Yuuko?"

"Seventeen. I think. She was … thirty-four? Thirty-six? Forty-two?" He pauses. "It doesn't matter. She was way out of my league," he adds, as if it was an afterthought.

"I see. But the girl isn't..."

"Yes. Yes, that's right. I wasn't expecting that."

"Is that why you are angry?" Shizuka's inquiring voice lilts.

Watanuki shakes his head again. "No, not that. I told you—this is all Yuuko and Doumeki's fault. A hundred years ago or so." Shizuka tilts his head. Watanuki swells with rage and throws himself into swift and restless movement. "You  _dolt_ , it's that wretched lifeless egg!" Watanuki shouts, pacing the room. "They never  _told_  me. If Doumeki had been a little faster on the draw with that  _thing_ , life as I know it might not have existed! I might have forgotten everything—everything that gives "me" _meaning._ And Yuuko just gave that power to him, and I never knew. She  _always_ favored Doumeki and helped him meddle in my life. And that stupid idiot kept it such a good secret that he had to leave it to his  _descendants_  to tell me the  _truth_! And I'll never know what he has to say for himself!"

"I'm sorry," says Shizuka, a bit helplessly.

Watanuki rounds on him. "Idiot!" he snaps. And then Watanuki catches himself and resumes the silent chant in his head:  _not Shizuka's fault, not Shizuka's fault_. He bites his lip and stares at the ground, trying not to scream with frustration.

"Mokona!" he barks, more sharply than he meant to. He can't help it when his voice grates.

Alarmed, Mokona shoots across the floor, a little black blur, faster than the eye could see. She meekly slides to a stop under the table and peeps around a chair leg to take a look at Watanuki's face before she ventures out.

"Come here," Watanuki says curtly, not caring to be gentle with his tone. "I won't hurt you." He held out his hand and Mokona hops on, switching her ears back in trepidation.

"Mokona, if Doumeki had used the egg, what would have happened?"

"Huh?" she squeaks.

"What would have happened?" Watanuki repeats.

"N-nothing…well…Mokona doesn't know. But the time he needed to use it hadn't come yet," Mokona says. "So nothing could happen and the chance would be lost."

"Is the time for which it is needed coming soon?"

The  _kuromanju_  shakes her head. "No. It's  _now_  happening. Happening since Watanuki stepped outside the shop."

Watanuki had expected as much. Watanuki sighs, puts down the  _kuromanju_ , and decides to escape into the kitchen, where he can calm down away from sight of a certain Doumeki.

* * *

When Watanuki has gone, and Shizuka hears the muffled clanging of pots and pans, Shizuka knows it is safe. Mokona's statement was interesting. Shizuka looks back at Mokona and asks, "Why didn't you stop us today, then?"

"It was his choice." Black Mokona purses her lips. "Watanuki was delaying. He might never have gone outside if he waited any longer. Yuuko did not want that for him. People should not be immortal for long."

"As I thought," Shizuka mutters. "So I have only to continue what I have been doing, and it becomes unnecessary." Mokona nods. Shizuka leans his forehead against the cool egg cupped in his hands. A flash of vision comes to him, and he gasps and almost drops the egg.

The  _kuromanju_  leaps into his lap. "Yuuko?"

Shizuka nods slightly. "She told me what to do."

"Good, then," Mokona says in a small voice. The  _kuromanju_  hops onto Shizuka's shoulder and cuddles his ear.

Shizuka sighs. "Are you ever lonely, Mokona?" Shizuka asks the  _kuromanju_.

"No. Because Mokona is never alone." Mokona snuggles.

"But you have to hide things from Watanuki."

Mokona chirps and twitches its ears. "Yes. But it is sad-making, not lonely. Because I am not alone."

Shizuka thinks that the Mokonas have a different conception of loneliness than the one he possesses. "Why aren't you alone, Mokona?"

"Because I have Watanuki, silly!" Mokona pretends to pout. "And  _you_." Mokona pretends to nibble Shizuka's ear. Shizuka gives a quick shake of his head, and Mokona topples off of Shizuka's shoulder.

"Why me?" asks Shizuka as Mokona crawls onto Shizuka's hands from where it fell in his lap.

"Shizuka Doumeki cares about Watanuki, and Watanuki doesn't understand him like Shizuka Doumeki understands Watanuki. Mokona cares about Watanuki, but Watanuki thinks that Mokona is always silly. Mokona is not always silly; Mokona is also serious, sometimes. Mokona also understands Watanuki. Mokona cannot talk to Watanuki about Watanuki because Watanuki does not understand himself. …And also," the  _kuromanju_  hesitates, "Because Mokona also talked to Yuuko like this. But Yuuko is gone."

"Thank you, Mokona," says Shizuka softly. "I see now."

Mokona makes no reply, but presses itself against his hands again, and just as suddenly bounces away.

Even such small creatures need the reassurance of touch sometimes, Shizuka thinks. Just like Watanuki. But Watanuki often forgets.

Shizuka doesn't know what Doumeki knew. In many ways, he is still a stranger to Watanuki still, but Watanuki is unable to treat him as one. Neither is Watanuki prepared to relate to Shizuka as the individual he is.

This is nothing new, but it is also true that until now they have never clashed over it. Right now, guilt is eating at Watanuki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea whether Kochoushu's name could be real or not. If it is, it would be of these characters: 蝴蝶 (kochou, butterfly) and 主 (shu, master/lord). Even if it is real, it is probably not supposed to be used as a family name (though I can think of a couple of far-fetched explanations for it!). According to then end notes of one copy of the Kwaidan that I borrowed through inter-library loan (a long time ago, so I can't check the veracity now), her given name, Tekona, supposedly can mean both "butterfly" in one Japanese dialect and "beautiful woman."
> 
> Anyway, although possibly inaccurate, this name works for my purposes.


	3. Spying on the Shopkeeper

Syaoran finds Fai and Kurogane lurking outside of Sakura's throne room as if they had known that was where he had been going next. He was glad to see them, of course, but did they have to to ambush him?

"I was going to see the princess," he says, trying not to let his irritation show.

They nod. "That's why we're here."

That's what he was afraid of. "So you actually just want to see me." Syaoran crosses his arms. "What is it?"

"We…" Fai looks at Kurogane and seems to lose heart—rare for him. "We noticed you were speaking rather harshly to Watanuki…" He turns to Kurogane for support. Kurogane just stares him down. He got himself into this, he can talk his way out. "Um," says Fai.

"I was upset," says Syaoran shortly.

"We know. Did Watanuki say something to upset you?" Fai asks.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

They shrug.

"He stopped his time for a full hundred years. Of course I am upset. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that the consequences of Fei-Wong Reed's meddling are far-reaching, but I had no idea that he suffered so much more than I for something I had done. That idiot never hinted. Not once. And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Sakura-hime." Syaoran takes strides forward, about to sweep past them.

He's hiding things. The boy certainly has grown up over the years. Kurogane blocks his way. Syaoran blinks at him. "I don't know if you've noticed," Kurogane barks, "but we are not stuck living in one place."

Syaoran is confused.

"We have realized that we…Fai-san and I…" Kurogane looks at Fai as he searches for words. "We haven't found the world we belong in, yet. There's no place we want to live. So we thought we'd go and check out his place for you. And maybe settle down."

"You'd do that?" Syaoran asks.

Kurogane snorts. "It's in our best interest anyway. If you're so concerned that you got angry about him, it's the least we can do to find out what's going on. You are close enough to him that you will have a hard time seeing the picture clearly. We do not know Watanuki as well as you do. And perhaps more importantly, he does not know  _us_."

"That would certainly take a load off my mind…for the time being. Belated though the action is." Syaoran runs one hand through his hair. "It may be over already," he mutters to himself. The he clearly addresses his old travelling companions. "I know that it's not practical to go straight there as if I was really worried about him; he'd cover it up, and I would learn nothing. But if you guys go, you might notice something."

"Kuro-tan thought it was something like that," says Fai.

"Kurogane-san?" Syaoran looks at him. He nods.

Fai replies. "Big Puppy knows Small Puppy best." Kurogane turns away and tries to preserve his dignity by looking cool and pretending that he hasn't heard a word.

Syaoran smiles slightly.

Fai looks again at Syaoran, more seriously, and wonders aloud, "Well, since that's settled, should we leave now, or should we pay our respects to Sakura?"

Syaoran jumps. "Yes—well—by all means... Of course you should see Sakura! You won't stay long?"

"Not if you don't want us to." Kurogane clears his throat. "After that, we'll say our goodbyes and we'll have White Mokona send us to Watanuki's place, but she won't come with us; we'll leave the  _shiromanju_  with you so you can talk easily with Watanuki as the day approaches. Then if we decide to stay in Watanuki's world, that's all fine and good, because we won't need White Mokona—"

"I'm going to miss White Mokona," Fai mourns.

Kurogane coughs. "Quite. Anyway, Black Mokona can send us back here or anywhere else when we need to go travelling again. Black Mokona probably also has the translation ability."

"As I recall, Watanuki's world speaks Kurogane's language in a different form, so it shouldn't be hard for us to learn even without White Mokona," Fai says thoughtfully.

"The point is, we're leaving White Mokona with you," Kurogane says bluntly. "Because you need Mokona more than we do right now."

"Thank you," Syaoran breathes, amazed. "Thank you so much."

"No problem, kid," says Kurogane, ruffling Syaoran's hair, just like old times—although these days Syaoran's head comes up to Kurogane's shoulder. Syaoran is almost as tall as Fai, but not quite.

"Well, let's go see the princess, shall we? Together, right now? It would embarrass her if she got upset in front of us, so maybe we should leave first," Fai says. His tone is light but his face is serious. "That's what you were planning to do when we met you, right? She probably won't get angry, but she might be worried."

Syaoran takes a deep breath. "Thanks for the advice, Fai-san. I wasn't sure what to do."

"Yes, you're too honest for your own good." Fai winks. "Just like Watanuki, I would hazard, yes?"

"Very like Watanuki." Syaoran tries to smile.

"But unlike Kuro-tan, I've always understood Sakura better." Fai grins. "So, let's celebrate our reunion."

"Sakura doesn't drink these days," Syaoran reminds them.

Fai shrugs. "There are many ways to have fun. I, myself…" Fai looks at Kurogane carefully, "...am rather sick of getting drunk."

Kurogane grunts. "Pretending to get drunk, you mean."

"Yes, it is  _such_  a nuisance." Fai flicks his hair like a girl. "Glad  _that's_  over."

Kurogane makes a face, and Syaoran chuckles.

Fai looks over, and lets a trace of a smirk settle on his lips. "I haven't let spill all my secrets, Kuro-guro, have I? It wouldn't do to let them all out at once..."

Kurogane snorts. "Even if you didn't play your cards close to the chest, wading through those is going to take a lifetime, mage."

Syaoran shakes his head. "Well, come on in, then…" Syaoran leads them inside.

* * *

"Sakura-hime… Sakura!" Syaoran whispers, creeping closer to Sakura, who is mediating upon her throne. Fai and Kurogane hover at the doorway, quiet shadows.

Sakura slowly opens her eyes and tilts forward. "Syaoran?"

"What have you been seeing, Princess?" Syaoran kneels at her feet.

Sakura stirs. "Change."

Syaoran bites his lip. "For us?"

"A little. For us, and for our little one." Sakura's hand hovers for a moment over her belly, and then falls away. "But for another as well." She pierces Syaoran's eyes with her gaze.

"Who?" Syaoran says cluelessly.

"For Watanuki."

"Oh..." He's taken off guard.

"I must tell you that I saw the conversation you had now almost six months ago, when you first came home. But I didn't tell you then, for that would change the future. Because of that—just now it came to pass, did it not? There is a path available to Watanuki that there was not before," says Sakura, settling back in her throne. "There are new possibilities. I believe I did right."

"Then you knew of his fate?"

"Yes."

"Did the witch foresee this happening?" he asked.

"I cannot tell; but I would not underestimate her. Syaoran, will you forgive me for not telling you?"

"I forgive you," says Syaoran, easily, immediately. "Of course I do. I trust you."

"Thank you." Sakura slips off of her throne and rises to her feet, then looks down in puzzlement. "Now, Syaoran, as my husband, you don't have to kneel to me."

"I felt like it," says Syaoran simply, and a little defensively, and rises to his feet. "It's only proper, right?"

"Syaoran…" Sakura sighs sharply. "I appreciate the gesture, but there is more at stake here than just our relationship, which I would prefer to see becoming more equal, personally... And—there is also Clow to consider. I need you as King."

Syaoran's eyes widen, and he immediately scrambles to his feet.

"Yes, Princess," Syoaran says, a little unhappily. He winces and rubs his face, which is blushing with embarrassment. What she asks is hard; this is the way it has always been, the way he has acted with her from boyhood. He had them drilled into them from a young age, but now that those manners are no longer appropriate, it is hard to eradicate them.

Sakura squeezes his shoulder sympathetically. "I know this is hard to hear, but there is gallantry and then there is servility. Syaoran. We can be equals and you can still be gentle with me. I just need you to learn the difference. And not just that—I need you to learn about how your actions appear to our people."

"I know. I'll try, Sakura. It's a habit I'm trying to beat." Syaoran tries to smile. "The truth is, I hardly know where to start."

"Thank you. I know you will." Sakura smiles at him briefly, and then lifts her head to where Fai and Kurogane wait in the wings. She had known they were there from the start, but now she acknowledged them. "Fai! Kurogane!"

They walk forward. "Here, Princess."

"What brings you?"

Fai turns. "Why don't you explain it, Syaoran?"

Syaoran coughs into his hand. "Ahhh... Let's put it this way. Sakura-hime, I am sending them to attend to Watanuki."

"I foresaw that might happen." Sakura smiles. "I wish the two of you good luck, then. But stay for dinner before you go? You may find Earth more to your liking, but Clow has its charms. I hope you remember apple  _paryu!_ "

The guests blanch before her eyes.  _How could we forget?_  Fai and Kurogane thought.  _Sure, it was delicious, but— How can one remember it without also thinking of the deaths of some of the people of Clow trapped in Fei Wong's spell? Or that poor boy..._

A few seconds after the words left her mouth, Sakura seemed to realize what she'd just said. "Don't worry, it's not quite the same as you remember," Sakura anxiously reassures them, seeing their crestfallen faces. "I—I mean, there's been a popular variation of the dish going round that we've latched onto in the palace. We're trying to redeem our memories of that time and honor the dead. It's a good dish, and it's  _Clow's_ , it doesn't deserve to be tainted by the past. Don't you agree?"

They nodded, all feeling relieved. "Yes, Sakura-hime," they agreed.

"In fact—" She cheered up immediately. "I know! You can help me give the variation a new name!"

"A splendid idea," said Syaoran, quietly.

What presses upon all their minds is that the kingdom of Clow yet bears some scars.

* * *

"Why couldn't Kohane or Himawari-chan have left me a few descendants?" Watanuki grumbles a couple of days later, having momentarily forgotten which of the Doumekis he is with.

"You know why," says Shizuka, and he shuts his book abruptly. It's a hypothetical question, of course. Himawari-chan never bore children. Kohane, on the other hand, married Doumeki, so technically Shizuka was her descendant as much as he was Doumeki's, though he clearly didn't inherit as much from Kohane.

Watanuki missed his friends. He was lonely and had no other way to express it. But Shizuka was tired of it. "You can't have everything," he says bluntly.

"I know," Watanuki sighs, his tone more moderate than Shizuka expected. "I know. I know. I know. But I can't help wishing."

"I suppose that's true, but it sounds..." Shizuka replies, and completes the thought with difficulty. "...as if you do not appreciate what you have." He doesn't like disagreeing with Watanuki.

Watanuki is reminded of the way he used to act with Doumeki, and he blushes with shame. Same old problem; new angle. Perhaps Watanuki hasn't changed as much over the years as he thought he had. "I know," says Watanuki again. After a moment, he swallows hard and turns to his friend. "Shizuka."

"Yes," says Shizuka quietly, expectantly.

"It seems I have been remiss. I  _am_  thankful you are here. It is not just because if you weren't, I might fade completely into the dream world. You do much more for me. If I could, I would make it so that I wouldn't miss the old days as much as I do. My nostalgia is a hindrance to myself and to you. For that, I am sorry."

Shizuka is amazed. He never expected Watanuki to respond that way.

"But I am stuck for now." Watanuki looks out, over the garden, through the gap in the sliding  _shoji_. "You are so like your great-grandfather, and so totally unlike. It is hard for me to distinguish between the two of you. When I forget, I find myself bantering with someone who doesn't exist anymore, and I hurt you."

"…Oh." That's what's been going on, Shizuka realizes. All along. And it makes sense. He just hadn't thought of it before. And then he realizes something. "But Watanuki—"

"I hurt your great-grandfather, too," says Watanuki quietly, "But I guess he was used to it. Or—well—I think Doumeki got to the point where he didn't expect anything different." He sighs. "I don't know why he saw fit to sign over his entire life to someone was worthless as I am. Someone who didn't even know how to give thanks even when it was very much deserved."

Shizuka twitches. That was probably it right there: because Watanuki saw his life as worthless, and Doumeki couldn't condone that. Doumeki saw fit to make sure Watanuki's life wasn't wasted instead of lecturing to him about it, and waited for Watanuki to realize his own mistakes. To hear Watanuki say it out in the open like that— Shizuka twitches again. There's that foreign feeling whispering through his mind, the part that is like himself but not quite. "Watanuki."

"What?"

"It's just a feeling…but I think the old days  _are_  coming back again."

Watanuki looks down. He's been twisting Yuuko's  _kiseru_  between his fingers the whole time; a bad habit, as if he does it too much he might loosen the metal frame from the wood. He puts the pipe down with effort. "Yes," he says slowly. "I think so, too. Perhaps that is why the old troubles and worries and preoccupations have been coming back as strongly as they have."

Then he looks up. "But they're just that—echoes, and reminders. When I step outside again…I'll be nineteen, no longer immortal, subject to the rules of that age. Do you realize? For all my hundred years of experience, I will have aged only two." He seems to be asking Shizuka, but he's really talking to himself. So Shizuka refrains from speaking.

Early winter. That's the season right now. Outside, the wind blows, and enough of the freezing gust comes indoors that it almost seems to blow through them through a crack between the sliding doors. "I am going to shut the  _shoji_  now," says Shizuka, ever practical, and he does just that.

* * *

Yuuko's magic mandalas silently glide over the floor and ceiling. A pinpoint fold in space opens at their centers, cracks lengthwise, and expands just enough to release the world-travelers, Fai and Kurogane. They step out of the circles, and the magic mandalas vanish.

Watanuki is napping on the sofa; Shizuka is snoring lightly, slumped in a chair.

"I guess he's okay," says Fai quietly. "Look, do you remember, this one looks just like—"

Kurogane frowns. "He might at that. Doumeki?"

Fai is a little amazed. Kurogane usually forgets the names of the people they met on their travels and has to be reminded—unless they were Tomoyo-hime avatars, of course...

"What?" says Kurogane in response to Fai's staring, and Fai shrugs. There's nothing wrong with it. "When we visited, he just reminded me of myself, that's all…"

"Certainly his mannerisms and habits  _did_  reflect yours," Fai muses.

"You don't suppose he's  _my_  avatar? We haven't seen that before. It would be…weird."

Fai looks at the sleeping man. "No, I don't think so. You're just similar, in a lot of the ways that matter. Should we wake them up?" Fai wonders.

Kurogane shrugs and nudges Watanuki in the side with his boot.

Fai is so shocked that he calls the ninja by his whole given name. " _Kurogane!_ " Fai hisses, horrified. " _How could you do that?! They're our—_ " His voice drops, past the point where he can speak. " _Hosts! HOSTS, you idiot!_ " He mouths, gesturing frantically.

Kurogane raises his eyebrows and steps away from Watanuki and back to Fai, raising up his hands. "Watch," he says, nodding to the boy.

Watanuki stirs finally and gropes for his glasses. Finding them, he puts them on clumsily, sits up, and peers around, blinking.

"Tomoyo-hime always reacted like that when we were little," Kurogane murmurs.

"Kurogane, you did that to  _Tomoyo-hime?!"_  Fai yelps. "To  _Princess Tomoyo?!_ "

Kurogane coughs. "Ah…yes. It was a long time ago. I was a bit upset at her for…it was immediately after my parents…" He coughs again. "Don't worry, she put me in my place. Anyway, all the farseers I know are deep sleepers. Sakura-hime was, too. You must have noticed on our journey."

"I have  _no_  idea what you're talking about," Watanuki grumbles groggily, who has only taken in snippets of the conversation, and proves the point. Watanuki adjusts the wrap of his kimono to lie a little flatter and walks past them, into the kitchen. "Fai. Kurogane. When did you arrive? Stay for dinner?" Watanuki cracks a yawn. "I mean, welcome…"

"Of course. Actually, we're staying until Syaoran comes," Fai volunteers, following Shizuka into the kitchen, where Watanuki is randomly pulling open drawers and yanking things out of the cupboards and plopping them onto the kitchen counter.

"Dang it," Watanuki mumbles, as a pot tumbles out of his grip and clatters onto the counter. A moment later the sound shocks him fully awake. "Did Syaoran put you up to this?" Watanuki stoops down to pick it up.

Fai grins. "We put Syaoran up to it."

"Oh really?" Watanuki's gaze drifts to the floor, and then settles on Fai's feet, and moves over to Kurogane's. "Oh, great... You came via White Mokona, didn't you? She deposited you in the house? But Mokona stayed in Clow? Oh—aaargh." Watanuki scrubs his eyes.

"Yep. Problem?" asks Fai.

"It's not a—a  _really big_  deal, you couldn't avoid it because you transferred right into the middle of the house, but—look, the floors are delicate, and they're antique. I try hard to keep them clean. Could you step into the  _genkan_  and take off your shoes there?" Watanuki asks politely. "It's down the hall, that way." Watanuki points.

Horrified, Kurogane looks down at his booted feet and hastily turns on his heel to take them off. " _Kuso_ , I forgot. We've spent so much time traveling I almost forgot my own home customs. I'm so sorry, Watanuki-kun, I should have been more careful. Fai, customs here are similar to my homeworld's, if you remember…"

"Thanks, Kurogane-san." Watanuki goes back to contemplating the contents of his kitchen, but he's not getting anywhere. His head is empty. What to eat, he can't think of anything… When Kurogane and Fai return, shoeless, he asks them, "What would you like to eat?"

They shrug. "Anything is fine."

"But surely you haven't had home food in a while," Watanuki protests. "I could make some for you."

Fai thinks a bit. "You probably won't recognize my kind of food," he says reluctantly.

"Have a try anyway."

Fai shrugs and complies. "Okay, um.  _Krupkakkor, plätt, köttbullar, blåbärssoppa, laufabrauð, kleina,_ or  _skyr._  Do you recognize any of those?"

"They're not translating..." Watanuki shakes his head. "I don't recognize them, so we'll do them another day. I'm too tired to re-engineer a recipe right now. Maybe if you can write down the names… Kurogane? You're from a version of Japan, aren't you?"

"How about feudal udon?" Kurogane offers hopefully.

"Not you, too?" Watanuki clutched his head. He thought he heard the last of the griping for feudal udon with Doumeki's death. "Is it really that good?" He asks. Then he sighs, remembering who Kurogane is: a ninja. "Just so you know, that used to exist but it's supposed to be extinct here. So I can't make it unless you can teach me first," Watanuki reluctantly admits. Having had a feudal ninja under his nose for quite a few years, now he regrets that he didn't learn in time to stun Doumeki a good one… "Assuming we have all of the ingredients. Assuming that the recipe doesn't actually include something extinct or otherwise unobtainable. Assuming... Although I suppose I could send Shizuka out for groceries."

"No problem. Where do you keep the aprons?" Kurogane asks. Watanuki hands him one.

They discuss the basic ingredients and come to the conclusion that the dish is doable, and when they're done, Watanuki's mind turns to other topics. "Is Fai any good in the kitchen?" Watanuki asks Kurogane.

Kurogane shrugs and replies, "He's good at tea, cookies, and pastries. Otherwise, not so much—his main courses are lackluster."

"I see." Watanuki waves to Fai, who has been lounging by the door for a while, and suggests, "Why don't you go and wake up Shizuka?" by way of getting rid of him. Kurogane and Watanuki will be fairly busy, and Watanuki needs space.

"Sure thing," Fai whistles, and he whisks himself out of the room.

"Any questions you have to ask of me?" Watanuki inquires of Kurogane in a low voice while Kurogane fetches vegetables from the cooler.

Kurogane looks thoughtful. "You call Doumeki by his given name now? I remember him, you know, a little, when we visited that one time."

"That's Doumeki Shizuka's great-grandson, also named Doumeki Shizuka. And now they look so alike I can hardly tell them apart," Watanuki says quietly. He gets out the chopping board. "Shizuka was younger than Doumeki when we first met. But now—" he shakes his head. "It's as if Doumeki never..." He doesn't finish.

"I see." Kurogane rifles through the drawers, looking for the knives. "So why did you stop your time? I never understood that."

"To meet Yuuko again," Watanuki says shortly. "And to escape Fei-Wong Reed's curse. But my time is not stopped anymore."

"How is that?" Kurogane tests the edge of a blade and decides it's quite fine enough to use—a good sign; Watanuki instantly earns a token of respect for his skills. Kurogane is as picky as any swordsman about the sharpness of a knife's edge, and even good cooks that he met on his travels sometimes neglected to sharpen them properly.

"Because I stepped foot outside the house boundaries, and I met Yuuko again. You'll meet her soon. Her name is Kochoushu Tekona." Watanuki takes down a large pot and plops it in the sink.

"Butterfly master." Kurogane smiles faintly. "That does sound like what her true name would be. Her sigil was the butterfly, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Rather obvious, isn't it?" Watanuki fills the pot with enough water. "Anyway," Watanuki says abruptly, lugging the pot of water over to the stove, "I will be training Kochoushu the same way Yuuko trained me."

"Will you be all right?"

" _I_  should be. It's  _her_ that I'm concerned—at least initially— I've never taught anyone before. I don't want to do her a disservice."

"Watanuki-sama," a voice says softly. The voice is younger than the voice of the Doumeki Kurogane remembers. Shizuka appears at the doorway and yawns impressively.

Watanuki whips around. "For goodness sake, I told you not to call me that!"

"I know, but I thought you wanted to remember I was different from Doumeki," Shizuka says, somewhat apologetically.

"I'm glad you tried, but that's  _really not the kind of thing that helps_. Didn't I tell you about my childish high school fantasies?"

"You did, but—"

"Please, just let it rest," Watanuki warns him, his voice strained. "I don't deserve the title. I told you, it makes me think of things that I really shouldn't—that I don't like to remember."

Shizuka shrugs, and exits the kitchen. If Watanuki won't take the bait, he won't push the issue.

"Why won't you let the kid to call you that?" Kurogane asks Watanuki in a low voice. "He adores you."

" 'The kid'?" Watanuki blinks.

"Shizuka-kun, I guess you call him." Kurogane takes over the sink and washes the vegetables one by one.

"He's an adult," says Watanuki, bewildered. He puts on the burner.

"But in comparison to you, he's just a kid. He hasn't got a fifth of your experience yet. He doesn't know everything about you or remember anything Doumeki did. He can't possibly understand what happened between you unless you explain it to him." As Kurogane finishes with one vegetable type, he carefully piles it next to the cutting board.

"I—I know, and I have been. A little at a time." Watanuki swallows. He puts the lid over the pot.

Kurogane clamps one hand on Watanuki's head and smiles broadly. "Then you are already doing well. You have only to continue."

Watanuki ducks slightly. He hadn't expected that.

Kurogane washes his hands again, finishes the rinsing, and begins chopping the vegetables.

Nervously, Watanuki runs one hand through his hair. "I should be over it. It's been one hundred years, so why—?"

Kurogane pauses slicing. "Fai and I had similar misunderstandings when we were first getting to know each other on our journey," he says finally. "I'm not sure if this helps, but I was probably playing the part of your Doumeki. Maybe it will help if you understand the other side."

"How—how did that feel?" Watanuki asks hesitantly.

Kurogane grimaces. "Uncomfortable. Fai kept coming after me from all these different angles I didn't expect, and I didn't know how to react. He frustrated me often by making fun of me or doing ridiculous things and making bad first impressions on people on purpose. After a while, I sensed he wasn't as happy as his antics would have me believe. I had to watch him carefully; then I realized there were things in his past that bothered him that he never told anyone about. I started piecing the clues together, and eventually I was rewarded with the truth. It was enough to convince me that he needed me at his side.

"Once that happened, he wasn't a nuisance anymore, but a true friend. I could tolerate his eccentricities and enjoy them a little. Sort of like you, he figured out how to poke fun at me in such a way that we could both laugh at ourselves. But that took time." He added, as an afterthought, "I suppose it's nice to hear that the other side agonized over their actions as much as I did." Kurogane has finished cutting the vegetables.

"Shall we put those in the pot?"

Kurogane nods. "But the udon goes first."

Watanuki comes to himself with a start. He hadn't even realized that the pot had just started boiling. "Yes, of course."

_Ding, dong... pin, pon..._

Watanuki winces and nearly drops something hot. He doesn't usually let himself startle in the kitchen. Kurogane looks at him sharply. "Who is that?"

Kochoushu Tekona walks into the kitchen. "Watanuki-san, how can I help?"

Watanuki squints at her. "I didn't ask you to come on weekends."

"Watanuki, I want to clear my wish as soon as humanly possible. Of course I'd come on weekends."

"I see. I need to find some work for you..."

"I thought you lived alone, except for Shizuka... Who is this?"

"I  _do_  live alone! Shizuka just visits. This man's name is Kurogane," says Watanuki. "He's a friendly traveller and a former customer of the wishing shop. Not that the relationship ever really goes away. Kurogane, this is Kochoushu Tekona, my student."

"Nice to meet you," says Kurogane.

"Likewise," says Kochoushu.

Fai and Doumeki stick their heads inside. Kochoushu ducks her head; Fai nods back.

"And this is Fai, my partner," Kurogane says casually. "We have traveled together a long time. Actually, we're looking for a place to stay."

Kochoushu blinks. Fai edges into the room and creeps behind Kurogane, close enough that he could be breathing over Kurogane's shoulder. Kochoushu can't tell what he's thinking.

"You can stay with me," says Watanuki, frowning. Barely breathing, Kochoushu takes a step backwards, towards the wall, not wanting to be caught in their argument.

But Kurogane is reluctant to go along with his idea. "I meant long-term," says Kurogane, drawing himself up to his full height and looming with a slightly dour expression. He turns his head over his shoulder and eyes Fai, who for some reason is still hovering close enough to be breathing on his neck.

Watanuki shrugged. "For the time being... What you're looking for will be difficult to find in this economy."

"The point is, our stay with Watanuki is temporary," says Fai mildly, draping one arm over Kurogane's shoulder. With Fai there, Kurogane's height ceases to be intimidating. "And we surprised him after all. It would be rude to impose."

"I could do it," Watanuki says.

Fai shakes his head. "Vampire magics react badly to the shop. Although those powers are largely dormant, I can't stay more than a week." To demonstrate, he holds out one hand. His eyes flash gold and his fingernails grow long and curved; that's normal, but then raw, red sparks fly forth, causing Kurogane to flinch.

"He's a vampire?" Kochoushu asks, curious, leaning away from her spot by the wall.

Watanuki sighs heavily. "Yes. One kind, anyway...I forgot about  _that_. I should have known, but vampires aren't common on this world. There are rules that apply to them."

Kochoushu asks, "What rules?"

Watanuki shakes his head, and explains to her, "There is a conflict that is created when vampires, as unclean beings, visit the wishing shop which is a holy space, set aside from evil, impurity, and decay. While the shop wards are advanced enough to permit vampires with consciences to enter the shop, the use of unclean magic will impair ordinary spells or cause unexpected or chaotic effects that are usually harmless. Such as the sparks. If a vampire stays in one place too long, it is possible for it to corrupt and warp the wards through the leakage of magic alone; it is also possible for the shop's magic to overwhelm and stricken the vampire."

"Interesting explanation. Whether it's accurate..." Fai shrugs. "I know what I felt." Kurogane looks at him carefully.

Watanuki nods. "So, you'll stay a week, then?"

Fai scratches his head and looks at Kurogane. Tired of arguing, Kurogane nods. And then they both agree.


	4. The Cost of a Livelihood

Kochoushu stays mostly quiet the whole evening, but she drinks up every word Fai and Kurogane say. Watanuki can see it from the way her eyes track the world travelers. She must have lots of questions, but she holds them in, watching and learning. It is quite clear that she prefers to keep her own counsel.

After dinner is over, Kochoushu expresses her appreciation for the meal and the conversation and returns home. Kurogane tries to help clean up, but Watanuki insists the regulars should do it, since Kurogane and Fai are still guests. It takes a while to convince Kurogane to stand down with the excuse that he had already helped with the cooking. As a result, Watanuki and Shizuka wash dishes while the guests take baths (Yuuko regularly used two of the three baths in the shop).

"It was good feudal  _udon_ ," Shizuka tells Watanuki. "Thank you for making it."

"I'll make it for you again, another time, whenever you wish. Kurogane's recipe was surprisingly simple—there was only one ingredient I hadn't guessed when Doumeki challenged me to make it last time. The lucky thing is that it's actually very common. I'm surprised I actually got so close when I was researching it…" His brief trip to the past brings him up short suddenly, and he snaps back to the present, and what he had been going to say. "Hey. Before dinner— I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

Shizuka shrugs and wipes down another plate. "I understand that there are some things you'd rather not tell me."

"Here, listen...about that. It's not quite like... I think it would be easier for both of us if I told you about it." Watanuki draws him aside so Shizuka is looking at him and not at the sink in front of him, and explains about himself and Doumeki.

At the end of it, Shizuka blinks and says, "That…makes sense. Now I see. I think I understand why you were so upset now."

Watanuki nods and turns back to the sink, plunging his hands back into the rinse water and accidentally splashing Shizuka with soap. Shizuka flinches slightly. He hates getting wet, especially when he's not expecting it. "But what?" Watanuki pushes, briefly turning on the tap.

"Sometimes…I had thought it made you happy," Shizuka says cautiously. "Of course I wouldn't make it a habit to call you 'Watanuki-sama,' because you asked me not to. But sometimes it made you smile, or laugh, or seem pleased… I thought it made you happy. Even if it was a small distraction." A tiny perplexed frown puckers his eyebrows. Shizuka, anxious for having done the wrong thing for so long, wants to make doubly sure that he read the situation wrongly.

Watanuki looks in his eyes and cannot bring himself to reply. There are times when Watanuki is grateful for what Shizuka calls a 'distraction' from the sadness, although on the whole he is still uncomfortable with the past.

"Then do what you will." Watanuki drops his head. "I'm sorry to have worried you. You don't have to listen to me." He rinses a plate and hands it to Shizuka.

Shizuka takes it. "On the contrary," says Shizuka. His face is grave. "I must always listen to you. What I cannot always do is  _obey_." He places the plate in the rack.

Watanuki stands still, lost in his thoughts. For Doumeki was always this way as well. It explains so much. "Stubborn as your great-grandfather," says Watanuki, laughing weakly, as he comes out of his daze. He tries to put lightness into his manner.

Shizuka finishes washing up and dries his hands.

But it isn't long before Watanuki remembers he has something else left to say. "Shizuka, about the egg…" he says softly.

Pausing in the middle of drying a plate, Shizuka stands very still. "Yes? What about it?"

"Earlier, I wasn't in a state to tell you what about it upset me. The reason is, I think I know what it was intended t-to be u-used for." Watanuki's voice shook a little. His hot anger from earlier in the day had mixed with worry until had all cooled into extreme unease.

"What for, then?" Shizuka takes the next plate Watanuki hands him.

"It was for me. It was to take away my Sight, and my memories." Watanuki flicks his fingers in the soapy water. "If I ever lost control. If I ever 'made Yuuko cry,' in her words."

Everything makes sense now. "Oh." Shizuka feels immensely relieved. He thought the egg might have meant something much worse than that.

Watanuki stares into the soapy dishwater in front of him. "You only had to break it, and my original wish would have been granted. I would be made unable to see spirits in addition to the spell nullifying the attraction my blood exerts on them. I would have left the shop for good. I couldn't even return there. Yuuko  _may_  have placed a spell on it to seal my memories again, but I can't be sure." He swallows hard. "That's probably why… No, I don't understand what she was thinking. That should have been  _my_  choice…"

"But you're not going to use it that way now."

Watanuki shakes his head. "No. I don't know when it happened exactly, but shortly after I became shopkeeper, my wish changed. I don't wish not to see spirits anymore. They are too much a part of me...and I...would miss them." He taps the counter with his fingers and shakes his head. "It's too late for that now. The balance has changed, and the shop knows it."

To Watanuki, it's over, but somehow his argument leaves Shizuka unconvinced. There might be traces of that wish left in the shop, biding their time... Still, Shizuka motions for Watanuki to go on.

"Anyway, once I knew what it was supposed to be for, I could reverse-engineer its purpose." Watanuki bows his head over the sink. "Since it was supposed to be used to  _seal_  my Sight, I am going to use it to  _open_  Kochoushu's Sight. That means I am going to have to destroy it…in a different way than simply breaking it."

Shizuka swallows, hard. This sounds close to what Yuuko told him would happen. "If that's what you think must be done, then do it, shopkeeper."

"Shizuka, surely you have something to say about that," Watanuki says, glancing at him nervously.

"Watanuki, I trust you. Watanuki, I—I had the strangest ideas as to what to do with that thing, and—trust me, I am sure your idea is much better." Shizuka falls silent. "Doumeki wrote something of the kind in his journals."

Watanuki gasps, "Are you sure?"

Never more so. "Very sure," says Shizuka.

Watanuki turns in a circle to stare at him. "That—! Doumeki wrote  _journals_?" Watanuki asks, just to confirm, eyes wide.

What was so confusing about his statement? Shizuka doesn't understand. "Yes. Didn't I say? I thought I told you before that I had found them and read them."

"No… no, you never did." Watanuki takes his hands out from under the sink faucet and wipes them on a towel, scrunching it between his hands. "May I…may I read them?" His face has gone distant again, locked away in another place and time.

"Are you sure they won't … distress you?" Shizuka asks cautiously. He shuts off the water faucet which Watanuki forgot.

Watanuki's face undergoes several expressions, as if trying them on and finding each one lacking. The sight is somehow heartbreaking.

"I—" Watanuki twists his hands together again. How can he say anything to that? He doesn't know. "How could his words  _not_  distress me?" he asks instead. "But I—I need to read them." He leans his forehead against the cool, humming refrigerator. "I must know what he thought of me. So I can let go."

Shizuka waits.

Slowly, the story comes out. "One day, you know, he told me he would die and then he was…gone. I was stuck, here. I couldn't even go to his funeral…" He takes a breath, full of pain.

"A week after he disappeared from my life, his children came and told me exactly what they thought of me. I had met them when they were young, of course, but I never thought they would grow and change so much that they would actually  _resent_  me. But that day—they told me I had killed him. Because the will required it, I would be fed, but they would do nothing more than that. And what could I have done? I know I took too much of him—his  _time_ , especially, but Doumeki always insisted that he was happy being with me like he belonged here. He was stubborn as a rock, and he was right about me needing him. But for a long time I just treated him horribly. And I don't think I ever treated him as he really deserved.

"After he died, for a long time I was so alone I thought I might actually go around the bend. I waited until you were grown, though I had no way of knowing that you existed, until the day you appeared on my doorstep. For all that time, I had no one."

"How long?" Shizuka asks softly.

"Fifteen years. Remember? You were born on the day that Doumeki died. You told me that once. I hardly dared hope. That had to mean something. You came to my shop when you were fifteen, and stopped by every weekend since." Watanuki shudders. "You were so like him. I tell you, it was if Doumeki had returned from the dead, except younger. It felt just like that." He shudders. "Still does, sometimes. I have to know.  _What was he thinking_? To put up with me that long. To put me through that.  _I just can't understand._ " He drags his fingers through his hair, ripping at the roots. "Neither of you, I never know what you are thinking—"

Shizuka grips Watanuki's shoulders with force, startling him, stopping the tirade. "If anyone deserved to to read them, you did," he tells him. "But listen. Doumeki never regretted a sacrifice, and would never make one that wasn't worth it. He lived for you." Shizuka rests the back of his hand on Watanuki's cheek and sets his eyes on Watanuki's mismatched blue and green ones. " _I_  would live for you," he says, making his voice as bold and soft as he dares.

"Shizuka, don't." Watanuki struggles to slip out of Shizuka's grasp and brushes Shizuka's hands away. Suddenly, Watanuki looks smaller than he should. "Don't," he repeats.

"It's not just him speaking through me. It's me. I want to."

"But you shouldn't—"

" _No_ , Watanuki. Believe us when we say that you are worth the effort we put into you."

Doumeki's eyes bore into Watanuki; Watanuki shies and breaks eye contact. "So stubborn," Watanuki murmurs, despite himself, as if they were directed to the the floor.

The corners of Shizuka's lips twitch upwards. "It's a durable trait, Watanuki-sama," he says dryly.

For a second Watanuki blinks at him, and then he lets out a short sharp bark of laughter. He smiles faintly. "I can't seem to get rid of you. Or that title."

"Mn," says Shizuka. He releases Watanuki and turns back to the dishes, but not before he promises, "I'll find the journals for you."

* * *

The next day, Watanuki directs Kochoushu on various chores to do, chores that he would normally do himself, and soon finds himself wandering the house without a thought in his head. Everyone notices. Realizing that their presence might be distracting Watanuki from his real work, Fai and Kurogane announce that they are going to go looking for an apartment, work, or otherwise find something else to occupy their time. Mokona goes with them.

Which leaves Shizuka to watch the very anxious Watanuki pace the shop as if he has unwittingly lost something—which Shizuka supposes he has.

His price. Time. The barrier.

"Watanuki." Startled out of some kind of reverie, Watanuki whips around to face Shizuka and freezes at the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he reflexively blurts out.

"Watanuki," says Shizuka again. "Let's get out of here."

"Out?" Watanuki squeaks.

"Yes. Out," Shizuka asserts firmly, and gently pushes Watanuki's back to face the front door. He's right. Of course Shizuka's right, but even after the first time, Watanuki still feels like panicking. "Come on," Shizuka murmurs, and leads him to the front door. "We never went anywhere last time. You need to see how the world has changed."

"Not very, I hope," Watanuki mutters as he slowly bends to put on his shoes.

Shizuka slips on his own shoes. "You must face it someday."

Watanuki forces himself to nod. He looks at Shizuka again, and hesitantly opens the door.

"Go on," Shizuka encourages him.

Watanuki takes a deep breath, glancing at Shizuka apologetically, and shouts,"Mind the shop, please, Kochoushu-san!"

"Okay!" He hears her reply from another room. "Go well!"

Closing his eyes, Watanuki forces himself to yell his reply, "Be back soon!" Watanuki opens the door wide and bounds through quickly, as if afraid that the door might slam shut or bite his ankle. Shizuka hops onto the step beside Watanuki and shuts the door.

"Key?" Shizuka asks belatedly.

Watanuki blinks. "I've never needed one. The shop only lets in those who..."

"Oh yes. I remember," Shizuka says quickly. "Then—so where would you like to go?"

Watanuki squeezes Shizuka's arm, and says nothing.  _Just take me._

Responding to the silent request, Shizuka pulls him on, and they walk. Watanuki says nothing, but he observes, a little at a time. His face appears to grow ever more pale. When Watanuki resists Shizuka's pull, they stop. They're outside a tiny deserted park. Watanuki seems to recognize it. There are structures in the gentle, sloping shapes of animals, and water-fountains, and sand for the children to play in. On the oldest structures, the paint is peeling. Most of them have been replaced by new modern structures. Only the stone animal benches remain from the days Watanuki knew.

"What do you see?"

Watanuki shook his head. "I can't take it in."

"But it's different?"

"Very different." Watanuki shivers.

"Tell me."

Slowly the story comes out as they walk back. All the little differences. All the darknesses in the town. All the changes, and the improvements, and most of all the fact that the quiet neighborhood Watanuki knew is gone. It's become part of the city. As he works through his memories, Watanuki slowly begins to relax, muscle by muscle.

He clenches again when he sees the shop, so tiny and rustic, among the tall buildings on either side.

"I really don't exist," he says softly.

Shizuka squeezes his hand so hard that it hurts and Watanuki makes a little gasp of pain. With a sharp intake of breath, Shizuka lets go, as if he had been burned—the action was unthinking and reflexive, almost as if someone else had taken over his hand...

"How—how long has it—?" Unable to go on, Watanuki slips his hand back into Shizuka's. Shizuka slowly closes his fingers over Watanuki's. A sign of trust...

Somewhat rattled, Shizuka replies, "It has been this way for the last ten years. Though it's hard to tell from over the shop walls."

Watanuki shakes his head suddenly. "It's as if I've been living in that storybook— _The Little House_ …Did you ever read that as a kid? It's about how the city creeps..." He chuckles, but the sound is not merry at all, almost one of despair and disbelief. "Shizuka, I—I can't—"

"I know."

Eyes burning, Watanuki drops his head and buries it in Shizuka's shoulder.  _What have I done? What have I done?_

"A wish is a terrible thing," Shizuka tells him quietly. "You've seen it all through the years, haven't you? You know how a single wish can make or ruin a person. It is hard to cope with a new world. That's what  _this_  is."

"Even so," Watanuki falters, "Even so, I think my wish would remain the same… I know you're trying to make me—happy, but I—" Watanuki presses the heel of his hand into his eye and swipes angrily at the grit there. "I just...I  _can't_."

"When you made your wish, you had no idea how to account for your loss," Shizuka replies. "You told me once that you weren't sure if the price was right. That it worked, but it took too much from you. This was one of those things."

When they finally walk past the gates of the shop, Watanuki opens the door, they carefully slip off their shoes, and they are home.

"I'm home," Watanuki says hoarsely, squeezing Shizuka's hand extra hard and firmly. Shizuka squeezes back.

As if she had known just exactly when they would be back, Kochoushu turns around and hefts the pot of tea in her hands as she smiles at them. "Welcome back _._ " Her straight long black hair falls in long strands, just like Yuuko's. Her smile is shy, but full with undiluted kindness, a kindness that Yuuko's experience had taught her to keep locked in reserve. But Kochoushu has none of that history.

There are four simple words that can bear grief and the weight of the world. Hello, goodbye, welcome back, I'm home. Right now, in this moment, they anchor Watanuki to reality and they comfort and protect his soul.

* * *

**A Week Later**

Kochoushu shivers as Watanuki, his expression carefully impassive and focused, paints various calligraphic runes, ideograms, and kanji on her arms and legs, her neck, cheeks, and forehead, and her hands and feet with charcoal black ink. The bristles of the brush tickle her skin. The thick, wet ink begins to dry.

They are wards of protection. Just in case.

Watanuki lowers the brush and steps back. "Are you ready?" he asks.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Kochoushu replies shortly.

Watanuki hands her the lifeless egg. With seeming ease, she breaks its shell, slurps the contents, and swallows the yellow-orange yolk. Immediately, power begins eating away at her from within. Her head swims and her eyes blur. A powerful hum pulses in her veins, sometimes at odds with her heart. She falls to her knees.

"You should lie down," he tells her. "The power needs time to settle."

Kochoushu nods, closing her eyes. She slowly lowers herself within the custom circle diagram he drew for her (much simpler, and possibly more elegant than Yuuko's decadent patterns), lacing her hands tightly over her lap, and settles back.

Unable to watch her in such a vulnerable state, Watanuki re-enters the house to clean the brush. Shizuka meets him at the door with a question perched on his brow; Watanuki murmurs a few short words in his ear, and Shizuka nods and takes a seat on the porch to keep watch over Kochoushu, who appears to have fallen asleep. There is only so much that Watanuki can do. As a latent exorcist, Shizuka has a better chance of keeping the girl safe than Watanuki does, as a former spirit magnet.

Fai and Kurogane meet Watanuki inside, and halt to speak to him.

"What is it?" asks Watanuki.

Fai shifts awkwardly. "We were wondering if you knew where we could go to inquire about housing."

Watanuki looks up in surprise. "Well, I suppose you could have my old apartment. If it's still there... Actually, Shizuka told me it was..."

Shizuka slides open the screen door with one hand, and says, without looking round, "My great-grandfather rented it for you. It was part of his will." He slides the door shut again. He must have been listening.

Watanuki sighs. "There you have it. I can give you the address."

"You don't live there anymore?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No. This is my home now."

"But we would still be your guests," says Fai.

"If you don't like the idea, then you can take over the rent. I'm not paying for it. The Doumekis won't mind getting their money back," Watanuki says lightly.

Kurogane and Fai look at each other and nod. Fai says, "Then we'll take it."

Watanuki yawns. "Follow me. You'll need special documentation. This world has become paranoid as of late."

"I don't understand."

"Immigrants are discouraged. There are laws taking action against people who come into the country from other countries illegally."

Kurogane furrows his brow. "But there will always be migrants. They usually mean no harm."

Watanuki sighs. "Of course there will, and they only hope for better futures, but still the government wishes to control them. They do so on the behalf of people who are afraid of competition in the job market. But world travelers have a problem, because do not belong to any country at all. So Yuuko's solution..." Watanuki unlocks the storeroom, and ushers them inside. "...was to magically forge the documentation and enter the information into the government databases via an agent to the magician population at large."

"What kind of agent?"

"Magicians, psychics, or elementals," Watanuki explains. "These agents understand parts of the world that require covering up in special situations to keep from alarming ordinary people. There are various organizations that select members to infiltrate the government for them, specifically for reasons such as these. Currently, the agent's name for this generation in this country is an elemental whose name is Yuuto Kigai."

"I see. But this is illegal?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "You haven't done anything wrong, and intend no harm. People do not cross worlds in such numbers as immigrants here do. To be born here and cross the borders without due political process would not be fair. However, the government does not know world-crossing travelers, and there are no laws against  _that,_ specifically. Therefore, it is worth it to make your entrance into society as painless as possible with all the changes you will be facing. There is no way to earn your documentation here; you must be born with it."

"What is the price?" Kurogane asks.

"What do you think it's worth?" Watanuki returns.

Fai and Kurogane stare at him. They have nothing that seems right—what they have is too much, or too little... They have the clothes on their backs, and Fai's magic, and Kurogane's sword, and other intangibles that they have yet to comprehend, let alone think about trading.

"I understand." Watanuki smiles slightly. "I'll take a blank check for now. You need the service. However, you should understand that the price is probably on the scale of a livelihood, as the forgery will allow you to have one. However you may define that."

The clue is cryptic, but they both agree. It could be worse.

"I need to look for Yuuko's equipment in that department. It's buried somewhere, I haven't needed it since this one case fifty-odd years ago. Can you two look for an empty golden cage for me? It should be on that side. Thanks." Watanuki waves his hand vaguely in the right direction.

Fai and Kurogane immediately break away to search for it. When they find it, Watanuki has found the correct equipment and is carrying it, and together Fai and Kurogane haul the golden cage onto the porch into the sunlight as Watanuki directs them. It's heavier than they think it should be.

Watanuki borrows Shizuka's ID and uses it to make forgeries for Fai and Kurogane. He tells them this is just the start, and that at some point they may find themselves in need of other forms, but this is essential for everyday use. Once the copying has been done, Fai and Kurogane collect Mokona so she can do their translating for them, and they search for the address to the apartment Watanuki described.

* * *

The moon has slipped into the sky by the time Kochoushu wakes. It is late afternoon; the sun is not yet set. In Watanuki's sight, the slender shadow of the invisible birds in the cage thickens as the sun sinks and the light of the moon grows stronger.

At last Kochoushu wakes from her doze with a slight jolt and a gasp. When she sits up, she presses a hand to her temple.

"How do you feel?" asks Watanuki.

"Fine. Just strange." She covers one eye.

"I see." Watanuki points to the golden cage. "What do you see there?"

She squints, spreading her fingers so that both eyes can see. "There's nothing in there, but on the ground...the shapes of birds..."

"Shadows of starlings. Do you see? How many are there?"

Kochoushu counts, and Watanuki is satisfied.

"That's a much easier test than my great-grandfather got," Shizuka says suddenly, appearing to look over Watanuki's shoulder. He must be remembering things during one of those rare, strange moments when the Doumeki part appears to synchronize with Shizuka.

"Doumeki never could see spirits, but he could defend himself," said Watanuki, brisk. "I was the spirit magnet, and he would put himself in harm's way to protect me. So I gave him a tool he could use to do so more effectively, and the price of the gift, fittingly, was a harrowing experience that would key the tool to Doumeki specifically. Or his descendants...you still have his ring, do you not? Kochoushu, however, is not in a position of danger. I wanted her first glimpse of the spirit world to be pleasant and beautiful, not frightening. Unlike his, or mine."

"But they are dangerous, aren't they," Kochoushu murmurs. "Even I know that."

"Without a doubt," Watanuki says softly. "You will learn soon enough that the majority of cases are indeed horrifying. But if you approach worlds and creatures from the other side with fear, you will never be able to deal with them fairly. You mustn't forget what goodness there is, or you will be overwhelmed, and that is what I wanted you to remember."

* * *

Fai and Kurogane actually look at quite a few apartments, but in the end, they came back to the small, bare room that used to belong to Watanuki. It is quite simple, not much more than a living room/bedroom, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom with a toilet and a shower installed. The tatami floor is worn, but well-cared for, and the walls are a musty-looking, an almost concrete grey. All in all the room is a bit gloomy, but it looks to be the cheapest of all the places they've checked out, and to be honest, neither of them is looking for excessive luxury. They just want a place to stay. Simplicity is the name of the game, so as long as there is room for two futons, this is probably their best deal.

A subdued Mokona has said little to them other than to observe, though it is thanks to her that they can communicate. She's moves restlessly in the satchel Fai has been carrying, and Fai knows she's tired, and that it's time to make a decision.

"Kuro-tan..." Fai forgets what he had been about to say; he hasn't been able to keep his mind on anything.

Kurogane grunts. "Mmn."

"You think this is the place?" Fai asks tentatively, drifting around the room.

He shrugs. "Do you? It's small, but serviceable. Good kitchen."

"The landlady said it comes with the appliances already installed, and there's an odd consortment of kitchenware thrown in." Fai is always talking to people. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes Kurogane finds it inutterably annoying. So Fai asks him, "Is it a good price, Kurogane? Can we afford it?"

He shrugs. "I'll take the numbers back to Watanuki—no, wait, Doumeki Shizuka, he seems more knowledgable of this world—and have him crunch them for us. But this looks to be our best bet."

Fai nods. "Does that conclude our search for the day, then?"

"I'd rather not waste time. We can find work instead." Kurogane hums thoughtfully.

As they stand there, Fai grows more and more restless. "Kuro-tan." In the satchel, Mokona pricks her ears and leans out of the top of the bag. Fai doesn't remember to push her back down where she won't be seen.

"What is it?"

Taken aback, Fai doesn't answer for a moment as he gathers himself together. Mokona puts her ears back, sensing his mood. "I'm…I'm hungry," he mumbles, finally.

"Already?" Kurogane is somewhat surprised. It's a little early in the week for feeding.

Fai nods.

"Food, or blood?"

At the word "blood," Mokona tumbles back into the depths of the satchel of her own accord. Fai bites his lip, then shakes his head nervously. "F-f-food." Normally enthusiastic at the mere mention of food, Mokona has the sense not to interrupt them with exclamations. Instead, she burrows deeper into the bag, and becomes still. Their emotions seem to pain her.

Kurogane didn't think so, but he had to check. He nods briskly and ushers Fai out the door. "Then let's get something to eat. We can check out the restaurants. They always need help."

"So it seems," says Fai, letting out a sigh. He leads the way as they climb down the steel-rail stairs from Watanuki's old apartment.

The sigh surprises Kurogane. "Don't you like restaurant jobs?"

"Oh, yes, they're good fun." Fai hunches and puts his hands in his coat-pockets. "The customer interaction is always interesting. I love making people feel relaxed, happy, at ease, and so on. But at this point, I can't deny that the work is also exhausting. And in the long run, it isn't fulfilling."

"Fai-san…" Kurogane feels like he is at a bit of a loss, walking behind him. He can't see Fai's face, so he's not entirely sure what to make of what Fai says.

Fai twists so he can meet Kurogane's eyes, almost as if he heard that thought. "Let's face it, Kuro-goro. You are a ninja. I am a magician. In this world, as on almost every other we have been on, our respective talents aren't valued for getting jobs."

"I wouldn't be so sure," says Kurogane. They round the last corner, and walk out into the street. Kurogane steers them to the right, back to the direction of Watanuki's shop. Fai lets him take the head. Fai doesn't get lost, but he tends to wend his way back by retracing the way he came. Kurogane's method of telling directions is different—he has a rough idea of the direction and the distance of Watanuki's shop relative to where they are—so he figures he can steer them closer to home while they forage for food.

Fai shrugs. "I guess you could teach kids how to defend themselves. But  _me_? I'm useless. On most worlds, I'm just an entertainer."

"I didn't know you were so unhappy, Fai," Kurogane replies somberly.

Fai starts to say something, probably something rash and in denial, and then checks himself. "I guess." Two pink spots appear on his cheeks, and he sounds young, flustered, and embarrassed. "You shouldn't think too much of what I say, Kuro-chii. I can do whatever it takes."

Kurogane shakes his head. "Fai, that's what  _I_ thought I was doing: wandering and doing whatever it took. But if you also feel that way, maybe it's time for a change."

Fai makes a noise like he doesn't believe it.

"It's true," Kurogane protests. "I didn't say anything because I thought you enjoyed all the traveling. For me, it's always just been necessity. First it was Tomoyo-hime's curse; then it was saving Clow, and accompanying Syaoran. You always seemed so upbeat. If I suspected that you hid feelings behind  _everything_  that you pretended to be excited about, I don't think we could ever trust each other."

Fai passes a hand over his eyes. "I know. I didn't want you to feel guilty because I was tired of what I used to love. And then I didn't look too closely at why I felt like that."

Fai will do what he can, but Fai can't change what he doesn't even notice himself doing. Pretending is too much a part of who he is and how he copes with the world.

Kurogane decides it is time to clear the air. "Fai. Don't take this the wrong way; answer me straight. Do you want to be a magician?"

Fai shakes his head. "No."

"It's what you're trained in. I'm sure Watanuki would know where you would fit in."

"I don't want to make a living off of it, Kurogane," says Fai. "When I do serious work for others, many of those requests will be ill-thought out—and my powers are too immense to take my gift lightly. I cannot summon the wisdom required to do that. And I need time to heal."

"What do you mean?"

"After...after Ashura-Ou, my gift became a heavy burden. Using it reminded me only of pain and suffering, because of that man. If I use it for serious work, and cause ruin, its weight will only grow heavier. Until I have grown comfortable with my power, I have decided to use it only at my whim, and no more. To see if there is any joy left in the art after all. If there is, then..." he shrugged. "But not until."

"I see."

"Kurogane, do  _you_  want to be a ninja anymore?"

Kurogane paused. "Tomoyo-hime took the edge off my curse, but she never banished it. I can't go into a profession where I would have to kill people as a soldier. Moreover, because of what I learned on the journey, I find war and strife to be more and more distasteful. I could teach, as you suggested, but I believe my style is inappropriately aggressive for teaching children good discipline."

"Even on your world?" Fai blinks, and almost trips over a crack in the sidewalk.

Kurogane laughed mirthlessly. " _Especially_  on my world. Why do you think I got to be the best? People were always expecting me to hold back, or something. Like that was gonna happen... I was the most competitive of them all, and I was always angry. I barely listened to my teachers. I took what they taught me and reworked it to fit what suited me at the time. Not always to their approval."

"You were a good student, then," Fai surmises.

Kurogane shrugs. "Not according to them. I took a lot of hard knocks."

Fai chuckles. "Of course. Kuro-pan, it's much easier to listen and copy what teachers say, but you don't learn as much."

Kurogane snorts. "I suppose. But I still didn't learn the most important lessons, the ones of the heart, soul, and mind, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Kurogane pauses and tugs the mage's sleeve to get his attention. "In here?" It's a ramen shop.

"Looks good." Fai stops and steps through the door Kurogane has held open for him. "And which lessons were those, Kuro?"

"Forgiveness, mercy, and the meaning of true strength," Kurogane replies. "Having learned the hard way, I would rather any student of mine should learn those first than learn to fight skilfully. And I wouldn't know how to teach them that.  _I'm_  hardly the greatest example. There are better people to learn that kind of thing from."

They both go to the counter. After perusing the menu, Fai points, and Kurogane steps forward to order for both of them. An exchange is made. Kurogane chooses a table and they both sit down.

"Kurogane...where should we settle?" asks Fai softly.

Kurogane doesn't answer for a while. He stares out the window, and Fai waits.

A young girl comes with their food and quietly slides it to them over the table. She smiles at them shyly and flits away. Kurogane thinks, for a second, that she looked like Tomoyo-hime when she was young. Though it probably wasn't.

Finally, turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand, Kurogane shrugs. "You weren't really excited about any of the worlds we visited, were you? — _Itadakimasu,_ " he murmurs, and takes the first bite. Fai echoes his behavior. Mokona peeps out of the bag to sniff the air for food. Fai slips her a noodle, and Mokona disappears with it.

Fai shakes his head and continues the concentration. "No. They weren't my type. I think I could have stayed in your world and learned to like it, but as you said, it seemed like you weren't at home there anymore. The rest were fine, as long as they had people…but I wasn't attached, you know? The only people I really care about are you, Syaoran and Sakura, and White Mokona. It's kind of sad, huh?" Fai smiled sadly. "Maybe I'll find myself attached to Watanuki, Doumeki Shizuka, Kochoushu, and Black Mokona after we get to know them." From within the bag, Black Mokona croons with sympathy; Fai strokes her ears.

"I've been thinking much the same. It's either here, or Clow," Kurogane mutters, lowering his face into the hot wet steam rising from his bowl. He slurps his noodles.

"I know Syaoran and Sakura would be glad to have us on their world, but I'm afraid they might worry too much," Fai says softly, lowering his chopsticks back into the bowl. "They're secure and well-adjusted, after all, with a baby coming. It's only natural to want us batchelors to find happiness in comparison to what they have, but—oh, gods, Kurogane. We practically  _raised_  the kids. They'd mean well, but—" Fai shrugs helplessly. "That's not...what I want."

"Yeah." Kurogane nods. "I know. I didn't want to think it, but I  _do_  see that happening. I couldn't stand that." Kurogane munches absently.

"I don't want to constantly remind them of the past, either. They should get on with their lives."

"Yeah."

"Also, Clow is very hot." Kurogane just looks at him and Fai blushes and slurps his noodles, which really doesn't help since Fai's pale face turns even more pink. "I know, I know, it's the least of my problems. We'll just have to visit."

"Sounds good to me. So what you're saying is, you're fine with settling here for the long haul." Kurogane prods him with a chopstick. "You like this world  _that much_ , do you?" Kurogane says wryly. He starts munching on the vegetables.

Fai looks at the table. "It  _grows_  on you," he mutters. "It's a nice, all-around medium—best of all worlds. And it's just the right temperature." Fai finishes off his noodles pretty quickly.

It's probably childish, but Kurogane finds it somewhat endearing that Fai is so sensitive to the climate.

Kurogane turns serious. "That's fine. I like this world too. The technology is convenient, but it's not impossible to understand, you know? There's still a reason behind everything. Watanuki explained the TV to me when I asked yesterday, for instance. People are still able to survive without their technology. I think on Piffle, and Outo, and a couple of other places, they didn't have a clue what to do without their gadgets."

Fai grins suddenly. "You were bothered by the high-tech places? Really? I never knew, er, noticed that." Fai uses his chopsticks to pick out the vegetables that he likes and takes his time nibbling them. "It just seemed like magic to me."

"I wouldn't say  _bothered_. I adapted, didn't I? I just don't trust tech. It fails too easily, and it's easy to get dependent or reliant, it seems. I can trust simple things."

"I'd still say you're bothered." Fai's smile begins to fade. "But I never thought about it like that." Peering at Kurogane's face over his bowl, Fai drinks the remaining soup.

"That's because you think you can fix whatever you like with magic," Kurogane says tartly. "Whether you understand it or not."

Fai shrugs. That's not exactly true—going into a spelling blind is a dangerous waste of time—but he does have a lot more leeway to fix things because of his powers. But Kurogane doesn't need to know badly enough for Fai to need to correct him on this. Kurogane has never wanted to know before, either.

Kurogane drinks the last of his soup, and lowers his bowl. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." Fai rubs his hands together. Mokona peeps out of the bag now that the way is clear, swiveling her ears.

Kurogane pays the clerk and they exit the ramen house and walk back to Watanuki's shop at a slow amble—Kurogane makes a wrong turn somewhere, but Fai hardly notices as Kurogane checks their course. He'll know the way a little better next time.


	5. No Guarantees

Fai and Kurogane cross the threshold of wishing shop to the place where Watanuki awaited them. "You decided," Watanuki observes.

"Yes. We decided there were some livelihoods we would not take up while we lived here. Kurogane will not be a soldier or a martial arts instructor; I will not be a magician or an entertainer for a living."

"Then the price is paid." Watanuki scratches the back of his head. "Will you be all right here for another day, Fai?"

Fai edges closer to the shop, and puts his hand up to the invisible magical barrier. "Yes," he says, at length.

"Then come in." Watanuki ushers them inside. "What will you do instead?"

Fai and Kurogane shake their heads. "Not sure," they say.

"There's always school," says Watanuki. "You could learn a new profession at college."

"Hmm." Kurogane looks thoughtful.

"You can do it slowly. Take jobs and pay for school a little bit at a time," Watanuki suggests.

Kurogane nods, a little. "We'll look into it. But I have no idea what..."

"You'll find out," says Watanuki easily. "That's what college does, I'm told." He sneaks a glance at Shizuka, who has just gotten into college himself, to study chemistry; Shizuka, who is staring at the wall, doesn't respond, beyond a nearly absent, "Yes."

"Are you going back to work tomorrow?" Watanuki asks him.

"Yes." At the end of a long day, Shizuka is rather tired and drawn.

Watanuki regards him. "Would you prefer..."

"No," says Shizuka, a little sharply. "It's fine. I knew this time would end."

"All right." Watanuki backs down quietly.

* * *

Shizuka returns in the morning of the next day with Doumeki's journals safely packed in a leather satchel. Watanuki picks them up with trembling hands. When he throws a glance over his shoulder at the dark depths of the shop, Shizuka knows, as he had suspected, that he wants to be alone.

"Kurogane and Fai spoke to me on the way in and said they were coming back here for lunch," Shizuka tells him awkwardly. "I asked them not to bother you if you were reading."

"All right." Watanuki lays the journal down on the table, and paces restlessly. It feels like there is something he needs to do before he sits down with them.

Shizuka watches him with pain in his heart. He doesn't actually want to leave Watanuki alone with the journals. There's no telling how he would take Doumeki's words. But he knows Watanuki wouldn't want to be watched over like a hawk by Shizuka or anyone else.

Shizuka turns to go, but Watanuki stops him. "Shizuka, I've been thinking." Watanuki hesitates.

"What about?"

"About..." Watanuki touches his right eye, the greenish-gold one. Shizuka's great-grandfather's. "About this."

Shizuka shakes his head, confused. "I don't understand," says Shizuka.

"Doumeki and I shared sight, with this half of his eye. I think—it's yours, if you want it. I can share it with you. I found a spell recently that would let me do it. It will work with a descendant."

"Would you like that?" Shizuka asked.

Watanuki looked away, as if by doing so he wouldn't have to confront the strength of his own desires. "Yes. If you do."

"Why? Surely you're experienced enough with spirits, that..."

Watanuki touches his lips with two fingers, making the sign for silence. "True, it's not practical anymore, but I...I..."

Shizuka waited.

"I want to do it for you," Watanuki says at last. He can't explain it. His eye was an inextricable part of his relationship with Doumeki, one of the few parts of it that he could admit he treasured, that approached the sacred between them.

  
Shizuka dimly perceives the significance of the offer, but he doesn't know what it means, so he can't take it. Not just yet.

"I see. Thank you." Shizuka bends slightly. "However, I must think on it." He glances at Watanuki, then the door, and then he is gone, like a puff of wind, or shadow passing by. He tears himself away before he can convince himself to stay.

His heart tells him that he is only delaying the inevitable, that he wants to accept and so that is what he will say in the end. But he refuses to listen to it. His head is telling him that there are still important questions to be answered, that there is a catch to this deal which must be found out.

For one, there are selfish reasons why Shizuka would want this in order to keep an eye on Watanuki. It might devastate their trust, instead of building it up. He needs to want this for the right reasons.

How did Doumeki justify it to himself, when he offered the gift? He probably didn't think. The only thing in his mind was Watanuki's well-being, and that alone; and it was necessary, so he did it. He did what had to be done. He was profoundly simple in that way, and that was also why Watanuki found him so unfathomable and stubborn. Shizuka is not sure he can accept the same gift with such a pure heart. There are times when power leads to possessiveness. But who would be possessing whom?

But the second, more integral question was: did Shizuka even want the relationship that Doumeki had with Watanuki? Or did he want something new? And thirdly, why would Watanuki want to offer?

But there was no guarantee that everything would be the same, after all, even with the eye. It was a puzzle.

It would probably be safest to refuse for now.

* * *

Kochoushu came in after that. She must have heard everything, but she appeared as if she had nothing to say; she simply went on with her chores, shelving books and organizing artifacts and papers. Watanuki sighs when he sees her. She's about to go out the door when he holds out his hand to stop her.

"Kochoushu. I haven't been giving you the due attention you need, or deserve," Watanuki says simply. "We need to talk."

After a moment of consideration, Kochoushu lets go of the front door handle and follows Watanuki to the clients' study.

"Whatever problem you had originally would have to be urgent for you to have come to me when you did," Watanuki explains when they are both seated. "I think we both know that the Sight was not your ultimate goal, only a means to the end. Possibly a key to your destiny. But that's a different kind of thing altogether."

Kochoushu shrugs, trying to look nonchalant.

"I think it's time you told me what it is," Watanuki says gravely. "Do you know?"

Kochoushu's eyes slide sideways. "I don't have the experience to tell you what exactly it is. I only know what I have observed." She plays with her fingers, lacing them together tightly.

"Sit down," Watanuki orders, gently but firmly. Kochoushu bows slightly and sits in the only available chair, which is across the table from Watanuki. Watanuki pours her some weak lukewarm green tea, then refills his own cup. Kochoushu stares at it, but doesn't drink. Watanuki sips a little, for the sake of form, then puts it down. Only then does Kochoushu copy him. Watanuki steeples his fingers. "So what is it that you have observed?"

Kochoushu's expression appears to tighten. "It was my cousin. We used to be close... She has been behaving strangely for a long time now. At first I thought she had been possessed, but now..." She looks out the window. Her brick-red eyes momentarily flash scarlet in the light.

"The Sight tells you that there is nothing acting on her directly," Watanuki interpreted quietly. "But that does not eliminate the possibility of the interference of a spirit."

Kochoushu nods fractionally, squeezing her hands on her lap. Her hair lifts at the slightest wind, appearing to fly. She appears a dark, brooding shadow as she crouches there.

"I will assist you in your investigation," says Watanuki, standing. "If your suspicions are correct, the spirit may not be one that you are prepared to deal with. The most difficult spirits to deal with often have the lightest touch, because they rely on the consent of the victim, and as such have very good persuasive ability, and a degree of trust. They create a compulsion or an enthrallment that is very hard to resist, and the best spirits play on the deepest desires of the victim, which is why it is so hard to break that spirit's hold. Am I wrong?"

"N-no. She's not possessed, so..." she stammers. "That sounds right, but..."

"Possession is also consent-based, but only initially, as the victim's mind rejects the manhandling of body and spirit and begins to reassert itself over time. It takes a surprising amount of energy to force the victim to succumb, so weak spirits' immediate goals after possession is in search of energy to feed, and in doing so they alert us to their presence... Still difficult to eradicate, but the cure needn't be delicate, and it is relatively easy to convince the victim to resist. Enthrallment is much more difficult to deal with and the victim may resist help as strongly as the spirit. Why were you surprised?"

"I didn't, um, think you would agree help me so easily. I wasn't really looking of help, either," Kochoushu says, embarrassed. "That was all I knew, so...well, I thought it was a dead end..." She runs her fingers through her hair, though there are no knots to untangle—her hair is always sleek and very, very straight; the gesture is purely nervous.

Watanuki smiles a little. "I, too, would have thought so, in my first few years of working at the shop. I did learn, time after time, and so will you. But that is why I thought I would ask." He purses his lips. "So, with that decided, would you mind telling me what exactly is wrong with your cousin?"

* * *

Kochoushu's cousin, whose name was Kuwako, had a boyfriend who was sweet, but "troubled." They had been together for nearly one year when one day he rode his bike into the ocean, and never came back. After he went missing for a few days his body was found at the base of a beach cliff.

Kuwako had tried to make herself believe it was an accident. Kochoushu wasn't entirely sure if this was denial or not. Everyone else was afraid that the worst had happened, and that it was what had gotten the better of Kuwako's boyfriend. And because it hurt too much—to think that the accident was just that, an accident, unanticipated, unfair, and undeserved—that was what they believed.

Only recently Kochoushu had found out, from a friend of Kuwako's, what had happened. Kuwako had kept the relationship secret, because if her mother knew the full extent of her boyfriend's "oddness," she would have freaked. But Kochoushu's cousin had wanted to be there for him, and that was how she had done it.

Kochoushu said Kuwako had stayed out that night after the funeral, and it had rained. Neither Kochoushu nor Kuwako's mother knew where Kuwako had gone, or what had happened. But when her cousin came back, soaking wet, she was very strange. She...well.

Kochoushu's cousin saw things that weren't there, spoke to someone Kochoushu couldn't see. Kuwako disappeared for hours to go off and do things by herself. She would promise to do things and forget them, make commitments and then skip them, intent on a promise to a person Kochoushu didn't know, to the exclusion of everyone else. That person consumed Kuwako's thoughts. She didn't care about anything or anyone at all. She was irrationally convinced that no one else understood her and what she felt. And she was getting sicker all the time. These days, she had a constant fever and couldn't even go to school. Her mother tried to keep Kuwako in the house, but Kuwako always found her way out...

"There was a promise?" says Watanuki, sharply.

Kochoushu nods, mute. There are unspilled tears in her eyes.

"Do you know the exact nature of that promise?"

Kochoushu shakes her head.

Watanuki breaths deeply. This sounded familiar. If it was what he suspected, well... "How long has this been going on?" he asks.

"Two months."

Watanuki turns that thought over in his head.

Kochoushu swallows, and asks, "What is it?" in a small voice.

Watanuki shakes his head, glum. "Nothing." Kochoushu slumps in her chair with a disappointed look on her face. Watanuki rests his chin on one hand.

Watanuki remembers the last time he encountered this type of spirit. When Watanuki was possessed, it had taken only two weeks for the sickness to take over. That was a rather depressing thought. Watanuki had not fought back at all. The spirit Watanuki had encountered was a stranger; given the story Kochoushu had told, this one had been a friend, and more than a friend, and would therefore be expected to have a greater hold over her. "Your cousin is a strong one," he says finally.  
Kochoushu stares at him.

"There's hope. She wants to live. She doesn't want to be convinced otherwise." That was Watanuki's interpretation. Hopefully the right one. "But we need to work fast to save her life."

"Save her life?" Kochoushu inhales sharply. She places her palms flat on the table. "What do we need to do?" she asks, desperate.

His reply, spoken low and dark, is: "Whatever is necessary."

She sits back, stunned. Kochoushu is unnerved, for somehow she knows deep in her bones that he means what he says about this of all things. A trickle of dread runs down her back. Watanuki's cold and bleak expression does not change as she stares at him. For the first time Kochoushu is really frightened for her cousin, not just uneasy.

Kochoushu wipes her eyes and in a broken voice she promises to do what she must and damn the consequences. She wishes to end the spirit connection to save her cousin's life.

Watanuki says, "I will hold you to that." And then he looks out the window.

He knows from the standpoint of the enthralled one that the very righteousness of one's savior is the hardest of all to forgive. Kochoushu's relationship with her cousin may not survive unscathed. If Kochoushu doesn't understand that already, then she is about to find out.

Watanuki had made the right choice all those years ago, but it was a near thing. The decision, made in a split second, had been based on a gut sense of guilt and an instinct for kindness that he could not ignore.

He's not sure when he began to accede that Doumeki had done the right thing. It had taken much time and healing to lay the grudge to rest, and the sick horror of that memory, like a deep scar, never faded. By the same token, Doumeki was extra cautious when crossing Watanuki on subjects more serious than snack choices and it was then that he began his habit of outwardly deferring to Watanuki even when he disagreed with him. When it came to Watanuki's life and health he would never compromise. Doumeki seemed to believe that he had used up all of Watanuki's forgiveness points, and truth be told, he should have been right.

But he hadn't been right, because Watanuki came to rely on Doumeki much more than before after the incident. Doumeki had proved his loyalty, even if he had gone against Watanuki's wishes. He could not be accused of not having Watanuki's best interests at heart, and it would have been foolish to throw that away.

Even though it was the "right thing," Kochoushu was not guaranteed a happy ending. Watanuki hoped she understood that. Not everything could be made better; there was a price to every wish. Watanuki wished for her sake that this consequence wasn't part of the price.

* * *

Watanuki gets up and calls Shizuka first thing. He picks up the phone and his kimono sleeve slips down; Watanuki rubs his wrist, where it is suddenly cold. The numbers are strangely heavy as he dials them, slowly dragging each number around in an arc. He remembers this was an old phone of Yuuko's. Shizuka calls it an antique.

Shizuka picks up, with accompanying soft static, probably from Watanuki's old phone. Watanuki clutches the phone, and turns his back to Kochoushu.

"I need your help," says Watanuki in a low voice.

Watanuki hears an office chair rolling back, a pen clattering to the desk. "Tell me what to do," says Shizuka immediately.  
So Watanuki tells him, and Shizuka writes down what is needed.

"It's Kochoushu," Watanuki murmurs, at the end.

"What?" Shizuka snaps to attention on the other end of the line.

"It's Kochoushu's true wish."

"She told you," he remarks with some surprise, and clears his throat.

"Mm. I thought it would take longer, too." Watanuki pauses, and takes a deep breath. "It's not good." He leans on the phone cradle.

"Do you need me to..." Shizuka trails off, but Watanuki knows what he was thinking of.

"No...!" he exclaims, too quickly. Watanuki doesn't want to put Shizuka into danger, and Shizuka offers to help him with too much as it is, while he is still untried, when this task carries a high risk that someone will be hurt.

Watanuki's own fears are delayed, but they are there. In the quiet that follows his words, giving him time to think, he sees them for what they are. The truth is, although he has the skills he needs to beat this foe, he doubts himself. He has succumbed once, and the problem had not ever, really, been about magical ability. The flaw lies within his own soul. If he succumbs, it will endanger Kochoushu, whom he has promised to help and protect. He cannot afford to. Yuuko and Doumeki together would strangle him from beyond the grave.

Shizuka is still waiting.

The truth was, though it kills him to admit it, that he is vulnerable.

"Yes," Watanuki whispers. He clutches the phone and his heartbeat throbs in his ears as he chokes out, "Please come."

Somber silence settles over Shizuka's end. And then, quiet, "I'm coming. I'll be there at six."

"Thank you," Watanuki says faintly, before he can take back his request, and with a soft click, he replaces the receiver.  
He leans over the phone and shudders. Kochoushu is watching him miserably. He tries to relax. He can't, with that troubled gaze on him.

"How about another cup of tea?" he asks, forcing himself to smile as though nothing were wrong. Before Kochoushu can answer, he whisks into the kitchen to get said tea. If nothing else, the familiarity of the ritual should be comforting.

It is going to be a long afternoon.


	6. Promises to a Ghost

Shizuka doesn't go out drinking at night—especially not when he considers himself on duty—which is inevitably Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Actually that's not true. What he doesn't do is go drinking with his co-workers, even though it is the norm. Part of the reason is that he generally dislikes restaurant food and has never been dragged to a drinking bar that compared favorably to what he knows and trusts. According to Watanuki he has inherited his grandfather's picky eating habits. Watanuki claims that Doumeki could have become a food gourmet if he had wanted to, not that he had. On the other hand, Shizuka doesn't dislike alcohol, either. Watanuki will sometimes offer a glass of something on the weekends, and next thing he knows, Shizuka persuades him to fetch a bottle of the stuff. Watanuki keeps vast stores of especially good saké and wine.

But none of his coworkers know, of course, and so over time this habit has garnered some confusion and resentment. Especially since Shizuka appears single, young, good-looking, and above all, unattached. People think they have the right to stake a claim on him.

Shizuka glances at the clock. If he's going to get to Watanuki's by six, catching the train, he's going to have to leave now. Most of his work is done. What is left can be addressed if he arrives early in the morning. Shizuka cleans his desk quickly, slips his working files into his briefcase, and stands, rolling his chair into place in front of him.

"You're leaving work early," the office-worker in the next cubicle remarks. He's the same age as Shizuka, and he's the one who likes to keep tabs on everyone and what they are doing, very sensitive to changes in routine. Normally Shizuka sticks to a regular schedule, partly because of personal habit, and also because dislikes of his co-workers' speculation—the scrutiny is irritating, even if there isn't much to gossip about when it comes to him.

It's true. During the week, Shizuka likes to work late into the night, until around ten o'clock or so: just in time to avoid midnight social hours.

Shizuka turns out the light in his office and steps out. "Yes. I have something that needs to be taken care of…"

The cursory explanation is apparently satisfactory. The office-worker nods and goes back to his work.

But the matter turns out to be not quite over. The office is aware of Shizuka's imminent departure. Someone pipes up, a kohai whose name slips Shizuka's mind. Anyone with people-skills at all could pick up on the fact that Shizuka Doumeki's kohai had been compelled to ask a curious, rude question on behalf of the entire office. Shizuka can hear the attention and the ears of all the other employees in the room straining.

The question was:

"Do you have a girlfriend?" he asks, completely awkwardly.

"No," says Shizuka.

The first-year takes a deep breath. "A…a boyfriend?"

"No," Shizuka replies, deliberately mildly.

"Do you have anyone?" the poor guy tries, lowering his voice a bit desperately. His hands flap in the air in place of the words he hasn't the courage to voice. He knows Shizuka has to have an excuse, but he can't make assumptions out loud.

"No."

"Doumeki-san, pardon my asking, but everyone wants to know where you disappear to on the weekends," the first-year says, looking ever more nervous, twisting his hands together.

That, Shizuka had figured out.

"Somewhere you can't follow," Shizuka says, lifting his head suddenly to stare forbiddingly over the first-year's shoulder and into the office at large. Suddenly the stillness is disturbed as everyone hastily finds "things to do" and remembers to "look busy" though Shizuka knows that they will all still be looking.

The first-year looks jumpier and more strung-out than ever. Shizuka takes pity on him, so he looks back down, and says gently, "There's a friend. I don't 'have' him. He's not 'mine'." He cannot say: 'He was my great-grandfather's, first'—that's impossible.

The first-year gulps. "What kind of friend?" He knows he's pushing his luck. There are some young guys in the office who would have no qualms launching a vendetta against a younger employee, just for asking too many questions. Shizuka doesn't like them. It's partly the reason why he keeps aloof, and this tendency is what the office workers are really worrying over as they indirectly probe at the question of why Shizuka doesn't socialize.

"The kind that needs me," says Shizuka, trying for finality.

The first-year turns a bit green. "Like cancer…or something?"

That's what they'll understand best, after all. "In a way," Shizuka says, indifferent. "He's having a hard time adjusting to the prospect of his coming death." Saying it so dry like this, it's hard to keep the frost from his voice, the implication that this is not your business, not to let on his personal struggles with Watanuki. He forces himself to show the barest ghost of a smile. "Still…it's nice to be needed, wouldn't you say? I'm happy to give him my time while he still has it." There. Now nobody can object in clear conscience.

The first-year gives him a startled look, mumbles something, bows, and hurries away.

Shizuka gazes after him with a vaguely troubled air, then clicks the snaps shut on his briefcase and picks it up. With one hand he picks up his jacket, and with the other he hauls the briefcase over his shoulder, deliberately assuming the cocky pose he adopted in high school for its effect on other people. He walks out of the office and no one says anything; the only sound left is the quiet beeping of fax machines, the clacking of keystrokes, the shuffling of paper.

As he turns the corner, he catches whispered comment, So cold— Right, how can he be so cold? He's his friend after all… We were just asking. Trying to help…

Shizuka can feel himself shrinking with dull unease. This can't go on for much longer.

He reaches the street outside and looks out at the moon, risen partway up the clear blue sky. It's not particularly reassuring. He never could get over the strangeness of that night symbol appearing in the daytime, but soon it will be dusk, and then nightfall; if it had been then, he wouldn't give it a second glance...

He glances at his watch. If he's going to make the train on time, he's going to have to hurry.

"Watanuki!" he shouts, stumbling over the threshhold and into the genkan and shelling off his shoes as fast he can.

Watanuki appears from around the corner in a flurry of robes. Kochoushu leans over and peers at Shizuka from behind Watanuki, cocking her head just so. Her hair slides over her shoulder, almost touching the floor.

"We need help—with you as support," Watanuki bit out.

Shizuka nods sharply. "What should I do?"

Watanuki hesitates, for a moment, but he answers quickly enough: "Protect us."

"Of course…"

Watanuki fills him in on the immediate details, although he doesn't tell Shizuka about his history with this particular kind of spirit and he doesn't explain why he needed him on this particular mission. Perhaps nothing will happen. Maybe. Shizuka knows that Watanuki isn't telling the whole truth, for even without the explanation, Shizuka picks up on Watanuki's jumpiness immediately. He decides it must be knowledge he does not need, yet—perhaps it is simply something he does not want to say in front of Kochoushu—so he does not ask.

But they seemed to be having trouble getting going. Watanuki would walk to the edge of the shop, peer over the edge, and suddenly veer, as if pulled by an invisible thread, and he would make up some excuse about more things he had forgotten to do. This despite the fact that it had been an hour and a half since Watanuki had known the problem and called Shizuka. It was obvious that he was thinking about venturing outside, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

Shizuka nudged Kochoushu, and bent down to her ear.

"What?" She looked up.

"Next time he does that, I want you to push him forward, off the porch," Shizuka murmured. "Just lightly."

"He's my teacher." She reminded him, frowning. "Why?"

"He wants to come, but he's scared of the outside. He just needs a little nudge. He'd be irritated if I did it; can you do it without him noticing you?"

Kochoushu nodded, and hopped up onto the porch, waiting to circle behind Watanuki's back. Shizuka stayed down by the gate to stare at Watanuki expectantly. Once again Watanuki lined himself up toe-to-toe with the steps, but he didn't go over.

Kochoushu spread the fingers of her hand and pushed. Watanuki stumbled forward, just barely managing not to trip down the steps. Kochoushu jumped to the opposite side of the direction of her push and innocently skipped to Shizuka's side.

"Are we ready to go?" said Shizuka.

"Maybe I imagined…" Watanuki mumbled to himself, and shook his head as if to clear it. "Yes." He walked to Shizuka, and stopped. Shizuka took his cue and dragged the shopkeeper into the street.

"Where now?" asked Shizuka, because Watanuki was too disoriented by being outside to think about the next step.

Kochoushu started, ran in front of them, and pointed. "That way. Just follow me."

"Right." Shizuka pulled Watanuki after her while Watanuki attempted to make sense of his surroundings. "Where are we?" Watanuki kept asking. And Shizuka would reply, watching carefully as Watanuki screwed up his face trying to remember what his neighborhood map used to look like and reconcile the familiar with the strange. Kochoushu ignored them both.

"Here it is." She stopped in front of a perfectly normal house. "What exactly do you propose to do?"

Watanuki looked at her. "I just need to talk to your cousin. I need to see if my suspicions are real. If they are, then dealing with the problem might be over quickly. If not—" he shrugged. "Then I have no idea."

"All right." Kochoushu held open the door. "Coming? I'll introduce you to my aunt." They nodded, and filed in behind her. She skipped to the next door while they were taking off their shoes, and called, "Obasan? Ooooi! Ojamashimasu! Are you here?"

But there was no reply.

"I don't like this," Kochoushu said uneasily. "She told me she was staying home today. I saw the car parked here..."

"Try again?" Watanuki suggested.

Looking doubtful, Kochoushu did so. And then she called for her cousin. "Kuwako! Kuwa-chan!"

Watanuki started looking uneasy when Kochoushu began to get upset. "It's all right, Kochoushu-san. You tried. It's better to get an invitation, but we can still do this."

"Watanuki, do you sense anything?" Shizuka said suddenly.

Watanuki closed his eyes, and concentrated. After a moment his eyes flew open, and he said, definite, "Yes. Kochoushu-san is right."

Kochoushu gritted her teeth. "It's not fine…I should have come over sooner." She stood stiffly by the door. "I left this matter for too long."

Watanuki turned to Shizuka. "Shizuka? I need you to take out the peachwood ring."

Nodding, Shizuka slipped it onto his finger, and the ghostly outline of a shining bow snaked through the air, growing until it reached its final form. Watanuki noted that it was somewhat bigger than it had been before. A good sign, probably.

"Just keep that on. In case." Watanuki took a deep breath.

Shizuka agreed, quietly.

"What is that, exactly...?" said Kochoushu, looking somewhat alarmed.

"Manifestation of purifying spiritual pressure," Watanuki said shortly. "It won't damage anything but unkind spirits. It's protection. Just in case."

She nodded, but didn't relax. "Let's go," said Kochoushu. She led them through the dark house.

They found Kochoushu's aunt asleep in the living room; Kochoushu stopped, but Watanuki hardly spared her more than a glance before sweeping on, and he picked up the pace. At Kochoushu's questioning glance, he explained, "That's not a natural sleep. I would not be able to wake her up until I dealt with the source of the problem." He swept his eyes this way and that, and chose before Kochoushu could direct him, listening to the tinny sound in his ears and slight shadows of curling, smoky tendrils that grew thicker as they approached the last door. They stopped.

"This is—this is Kuwako's room," said Kochoushu, taking a deep breath.

Watanuki nodded. "One more time. Try to make contact."

Kochoushu took a step forward to the door, and knocked.

The air grew suddenly heavy.

Not to be deterred, but grimacing now, Kochoushu said, "Kuwako, it's me. Kochoushu, your cousin. I'm worried about you. Please, could you open the door? I haven't seen you in such a—"

Leave me alone! GO AWAY!

The highpitched scream pierced all three of the minds in the hall while bypassing their ears, but they clutched their heads all the same and cringed. Kochoushu dropped to her knees, breathing hard. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, ready to twist it and enter.

Watanuki stumbled back into Shizuka, but he straightened quickly having caught Shizuka's shoulder in a tight grip, and pulled Shizuka's face closer. "If I tell you to shoot, you must trust me, and do what I say. But no sooner, unless I am in danger. Can you do that?"

Shizuka licked his lips, and nodded. Watanuki dropped to the floor in a crouch beside Kochoushu.

Kochoushu's voice dropped. "Kuwako, the truth is I'm really afraid for you. I brought some friends. They're harmless, they just want to check you out. Please…would you let me in? I need to see you."

This time her feelings are not contained in words. They all feel sharp, purple pangs of grief rip through their skulls in a wave and leave a simmering ache behind. Kochoushu knocked again, and they could all feel a wave of Kuwako's fear go through them like rolling mist. You can't! she screamed.

"Kuwako," Kochoushu whimpered, her grip on the doorknob weakening, "I must."

Watanuki stepped over to stand over her, by the crack in the door. "Kochoushu. Open the door," Watanuki ordered, leaning on the doorframe.

She twisted her wrist and leaned a little, and the door popped open.

"Thank you." Watanuki slid the door open and brushed past Kochoushu, who was still shuddering from the onslaught. Shizuka seized Watanuki's shoulder, almost as if to hold him back, but found himself stumbling after him instead.

"Kuwako-san!" Watanuki commanded, striding into the center of the room. "I am the Keeper of the Wishing Shop I inherited from the Dimensional Witch of Time and Space herself. I have the power to help. At the request of your cousin Kochoushu, I have come to help you, if you let me. Look at me!"

Kuwako met his eyes for the barest instant and immediately she turned away, wailing and clutching strands of her long black hair. She was pale in the dim light. She was covered in blankets, huddled on her bed, shuddering.

"Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me—!"

He decides that he will play her game her way if her demands are so simple. It would be better not to encourage her fear if he can succeed in earning her trust. "All right, I shan't look at you," says Watanuki calmly, and faces away from Kuwako, facing Shizuka's chest. To Shizuka, aghast that Watanuki willingly turned his back on the danger in front of him, Watanuki murmurs, once again, "I trust you to protect me." Shizuka doesn't turn around; Kuwako doesn't seem to mind Shizuka staring at her, but even so, he averts his gaze slightly, and relaxes for a fraction.

"Kuwako, you may not want us to see you, but I want you to watch me," says Watanuki. "I want you to think about how you got here. About why you are imprisoned in this room."

A movement catches in the corner of Shizuka's eye, and he looks up. The ceiling lamp above Watanuki sways dangerously, and Shizuka forcefully tows Watanuki to the side by the arm, with a margin, before the lamp plunges straight down to where they had been sitting, and shorts out.

"Is she trying to kill us?" Shizuka hisses in his ear.

Watanuki shakes his head mutely.

Galvanized by the crashing sound, Kochoushu had gotten up and stumbled through the door. "Cousin," she croaks, her eyes flickering over the room. She spots the lamp on the floor, sees that Watanuki and Shizuka are all right, and sighs with relief. Slowly, she sinks back to her knees.

Rather than face her, Kuwako dives under the blankets.

"Cousin," says Kochoushu, "We need to know what you promised."

Kuwako curls into a tighter ball.

"Kuwako, we know something has happened. We know you need help," said Kochoushu quietly.

"I don't need help," came the muffled reply. "No one understands. I'm not going to die. I won't die. I won't die."

"Kuwako, who are you talking to?" Kochoushu asked.

Kuwako burst into tears and sobbed.

"You're speaking to his ghost, aren't you? You're speaking to Hiichirou's ghost," Kochoushu continued.

"He's here!" shouted Kuwako, and pounded the walls.

"I saw him," said Watanuki, turning. "I saw him, Kuwako. He's the ghost sitting on your bed, with his arms around your shoulders. He's been telling you not to listen to us. Doing everything he can to distract you."

"You can—see him." Kuwako sat up, and the blankets slid off. "I—I know," she croaked, gulping down her tears for control. "I l-love him but I'm trying n-not to lis-sten. Everything—it's just—I'm so confused and everything is wrong! He d-didn't used to be like this!"

"He wants you to join him and you can't," says Watanuki in a low voice. "That's good, Kuwako. You've been doing very well."

Kuwako shook her head. "No, I'm not. If I weren't such a coward I would j-just g-give in—" she shuddered, clutching her ears. "He loves me! He's always loved me!"

"Kuwako. Your cousin, for one, is glad that you are a coward." Watanuki nodded to her. "And your aunt, for another. But on the contrary, you have been very brave. Listen to us. We want you to live. You want to live, too, but you have been resisting him so long that you have become confused."

"It would b-be better if I was dead," said Kuwako, but she sounded unsure.

"We want you alive. The boy's spirit has been corrupted. He has been feeding off of your despair," Watanuki continued, calmly and soothingly. "It's because he was murdered. He was trapped on this earth and he needed sustenance, unable to reach the afterlife. In his desperation he became impure, and clung to you. He's been killing you slowly, all this time. He knows this. You must let us send him on."

"I can't!" Kuwako cried, and tears leaked from her eyes over her cheeks. "I love him!"

"He no longer loves you," said Watanuki. "He has become entirely selfish." He's guessing now. It may not be truth. The spirit probably still does love her, just like the spirit of the woman loved him. This is the hardest part, the clincher, of all these cases—

"I promised!" Kuwako sobbed. "I promised we'd be together forever—"

So that was it. A promise made before he ever became a ghost—

"You can't!" Kochoushu gasped, aghast, and floundered towards her cousin. Kuwako, frozen, locked eyes with her.

To Watanuki's eyes, the boy Hiichirou wrapped himself around the girl even tighter and glared at him. "Hypocrite!" the boy spat, seething darkness. "Everyone knows what you've done, shopkeeper—you dragged that woman from death, just to see her again! How is that different? How can you split apart our love? Surely you can understand our desire! It is no business of yours!"

Watanuki stiffened. Shizuka looked at him sharply.

"Kuwako-san doesn't want to die," Watanuki hissed, livid. "And her cousin asked me to save her. That woman asked me to help her. You may love Kuwako but it is not enough; you know that this way, with you dead and not yet gone, your love hurts her. When your love becomes more important than the other's well-being it becomes lust, indulgence, selfishness. You are impatient. You fear that time will dull love after you are gone. We cannot condone such a thing: you must allow nature to continue. You assume too much. Even I could not move heaven and earth for all of time, and if that woman did not wish to come back for me, then I could not persuade her. You have no right to speak. What little I know of love, I suffered for. I know only of the waiting." His voice cracked bitterly. "And you must not."

Watanuki darted behind Shizuka's back and pointed him in the right direction, and felt Shizuka tense as the bow crackled with power and light. "Shizuka," Watanuki whispered into his ear, "Now. Shoot..." Shizuka snapped up the bow, drew and — let go.

The bolt of light shot towards the chilly, empty spot near Kuwako. Instinctively Kuwako fell towards it, shrieking, "No!" But the empty space surged forward, taking on the blurred features of a young man—it pierced him, and he began to dissolve, and turn white.

"Hiichirou—"

"Kuwako," Hiitachi stopped her. "It is no use. I must go on." He kissed her brow. "I was afraid, and it corrupted me. I almost corrupted you. I could not let you save me from what I had to confront all along. Forgive me. I love you. I always knew it was always better that you lived on. I just couldn't face it."

"Hiichirou!" With the last bright sparks wavering around her, Kuwako listened.

Kochoushu ran to her cousin's bed and wrapped her arms around her neck, and held her tightly.

Watanuki turned away, and found himself facing Shizuka, who had slipped the peachwood ring off his finger and was looking dark and ordinary now without the illumination of the ring's harsh light. "Oh," Watanuki mumbled, and moved as if to step aside— Shizuka held him there, instead, and almost involuntarily Watanuki's head dipped down towards his shoulder as he sagged towards him.

"Watanuki, what did the ghost say?" Shizuka asked.

He shook his head, avoiding Shizuka's eyes. Feeling sick at heart, he tried to extricate himself.

"Shh. Be still," said Shizuka, and Watanuki stopped. "It's all right."

"It's not all right." Watanuki blinked tears into Shizuka's shirt. "Kochoushu's aunt is coming up at any minute."

That wasn't what he had been talking about. "I don't care," said Shizuka, and held him.

Watanuki sighed. After another minute, he stepped away and Shizuka let go.

There he was, the shopkeeper. The door to Kuwako's room banged open. "What's going on?" said Kochoushu's aunt, blinking to take in the scene.

Watanuki smiled at her wanly. "I believe things will go back to normal here in a few days."

"What happened?"Kochoushu's aunt said faintly.

"Your daughter had a run-in with a nasty spirit that she's been keeping secret for…oh, at least a month," said Watanuki. "It was very brave of her, but foolhardy. She could have died. Needless to say, it's gone now. I think that should explain some things. None of it was actually her fault. You should keep a closer eye on her."

Kochoushu's aunt simply blinked at him, then crossed the room to join Kuwako and Kochoushu by the bed.

"I think we should go," Watanuki murmured. "Kochoushu will come back to the shop when she's ready. They need time alone." He swallowed. In a moment, Shizuka was there, gripping his hand, searching his eyes. Watanuki nodded, and Shizuka led him from the room.


	7. Where Home Lies

He should be embarrassed to tag along behind Shizuka, too distracted and muddled to learn the route they took today, either. But he's not. Well.

Actually, that's not true, this  _is_  deeply embarrassing, but he's too… _what_?…relieved? It's better than the alternative. He'd rather be seen clutching Shizuka's hand like a child than lost like he probably would be without him. He's happier holding Shizuka's hand than worrying about what people think or which spirits are itching to catch him next. He's not content, but he's more alive than he's been for most of his time spent within the closed walls of the shop. In fact, being with Shizuka—

This is just—much better.

"Watanuki." Shizuka looks back at him. Watanuki barely meets his eyes. His expression—

"I'm coming," Watanuki croaks, and ducks his head.

Shizuka nods, and then his head swings back to watch the street. " _Un_." He'll just ask again in a couple minutes…

Shizuka drags Watanuki through the wrought-iron gate and releases his wrist with a small sigh. Watanuki immediately picks it up in his other hand rubs the spots under pressure with his thumb, preoccupied. Because what he kind of wanted...

Watanuki catches Shizuka still staring at him and drops his wrist. He looks up.

"C'mon," Shizuka mutters, and leads the way back to the porch, where they sit down. "What's going on?"

"He was talking about Yuuko," Watanuki says. "The spirit was."

Shizuka blinks. "Her? Yuuko? Why?"

" _Saa…_ I don't know. But he knew about her. It could have been worse." Watanuki's gaze turns moody. "Told me I was a selfish hypocrite and waiting for her all this time was just for my benefit. I accused him of the same. Still…it may have…he had a point."

Shizuka phrases his words carefully. "I know you waited a very long time…but what is it about  _her_?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "I need her."

"But what?"

"I need her to take over the shop," Watanuki says. "It was always a stretch for me. I'm not suited for it, not like she was. She occupied a niche that I couldn't hope to fill as more than a generic placeholder, and there's still a need for it. Kochoushu, of course, has the right skills to do the job Yuuko left, whether she kept the spirit of Yuuko or not."

"That still doesn't explain why the spirit accused you."

He leans his chin on one hand, fingers tapping his cheek as he thought. "Yuuko—she was always sad," he says to himself. "Underneath everything. For all the time I worked for Yuuko, I didn't know what she wanted or what she got from the work she did or the wishes she granted. Leading people to the dooms they chose—she was the gatekeeper, but it wasn't a thing she took pleasure in. She was a mystery." He props his chin on one hand discontentedly.

"So then..."

"Then I realized." Watanuki looks at Shizuka then. "That I had everything I ever wanted, if I refused to let go. I looked outside myself and saw— Why was she so concerned about me? Why didn't I know anything about her? Didn't she also deserve to by happy? That's why I promised to grant her wish. Except she told me her wish was for me to live on. But that was—I couldn't do that, not when I was just learning to live for myself. If I was going to live then I would live so I could  _do_   _something_  for her."

Watanuki's gaze drifts back to the garden. "I knew  _she_  wasn't living for herself…not just because she was forced to, but because…it was because of her that I existed…she was kith, not kin to me but somehow just as close, and I never quite understood why. She felt responsible for my being what I am, a precarious existence. I didn't know that she was on borrowed time... Her wish seemed wrong, to me. She should have had a fair chance at life for its own sake, but instead she gave up her remaining time for me. So I wanted to return the favor. She'd done it for me, after all…" He runs a hand through his hair. "…given me a reason to live. It probably sounds backwards. Like I went all the way back to the beginning. I guess that's what I did. I put my entire life on hold to do that. Doumeki would argue that I let go of my own happiness to do so." He sighs. "But I don't regret it, despite everything. I can't."

"So what do you want to do?"

"I want to meet her again. I want her to have the chance to heal and become everything she should have been, and I want to tell her what she meant to me. Then we can part ways. And I can…I can continue my life." His voice cracks.

"But Kochoushu…" Doumeki trails off.

Watanuki shakes his head, shrugs slightly. "I don't know. Yuuko is a part of her, but buried; I don't know how to wake her. Or if I  _should_  wake her." He pauses. "Sometimes I still think that between one blink and the next I could meet her under the  _sakura_ tree in our dreams. The place we last met. We'll talk about the old days and she'll tell me about the future. So far—so far that's never happened. It probably never will." He licks his lips. "Not that way. As if it would be that easy."

"But you want it, don't you?" Shizuka says softly.

"More than anything." Watanuki wraps his arms around his knees, rests his chin on them. "More than anything in the world. But that's part of the problem, isn't it?" he half laughs. "That I traded her for the world."

Shizuka touches Watanuki's shoulder. "The world brought you back."

Watanuki slumps towards the touch. "It did, didn't it. Or you did…" He sighs. "I'm grateful for that, you know."

" _Oh._ " His voice sounds off, and Shizuka's eyes glaze, staring into space. In a minute he snaps out of the trance and focuses back on Watanuki.

Watanuki pulls away, looking wary. "Doumeki again?"

Shizuka colors slightly. " _Un._ Yeah. He says…" He licks his lips, nervous.

Watanuki is tired. "I'm glad it means something to him…you." Something inside him shuts down, and his spirit recoils back into himself. He doesn't want to hear what Doumeki has to say. He's still afraid of it.

"Watanuki."

"What?" the shopkeeper asks.

"…"

Shizuka can't say it...

"The journals," he says instead. "Have you read them?"

Watanuki blinks once and shakes his head. "Haven't found the right opportunity," he mutters, breaking eye contact. "Have you made a decision about the eye?"

Shizuka shakes his head.

Watanuki gets up and goes inside to prepare dinner. Fai and Kurogane are lounging in the living room, playing and teasing each other, having a disjointed conversation of sorts. Shizuka enters and they make an effort to include him, occasionally thinking of some question or other that they wanted to ask him about working and schooling in this country amid the lighthearted banter that they invite him to join. Shizuka doesn't feel comfortable with that yet, but they don't seem to mind.

* * *

Kurogane leans back from the kiosk where he's been talking to the secretaries and tells Fai, "They're saying we've got to take a test."

"Then we'll sign up." Fai resumes pacing. He keeps rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Occasionally he becomes distracted by the art, but only for moments at a time. He's not cold. Kurogane's seen him in much colder places wearing thinner garments than he is now.

Frowning, Kurogane turns back to the lady in front of him and makes his inquiries about dates and times and subjects. He and Fai know nothing about this world; they need to study. As for what skills this world requires them to have—Kurogane has a sneaky suspicion that they don't have them. Still, they've got to try.

Kurogane makes the appointment, thanks the secretaries, and circles back to Fai. Fai doesn't look up.

"Are you all right?" Kurogane says softly, hefting his shoulder bag. Mokona, who had been almost asleep, rolls around in it. Her job as translator is almost entirely passive, it seems. But now she's waking up, and her weight is shifting around as she regains her bearings.

Fai shrugs.

"Are you...hungry?" says Kurogane, fighting with the shifting bag.

Fai shakes his head. "I can't think," he mutters.

"Then you're nervous?"

Fai makes a quick, sharp negative motion without looking him in the eyes.

The motion that tells Kurogane that's exactly what it is, and it takes him aback. "Fai—"

While Kurogane is still searching for words, Fai grabs his arm and drags him towards the building's entrance, out of earshot. "This is different," he mutters. "Different from before. Kurogane, what if we can't do this? Do you know how many entrance exams we've messed up before? We've got only one chance. We can't mess it up. I can't move again. I don't think I can do this again."

"We will do it," says Kurogane in a low voice.

"There's so much we don't know."

"Yes," says Kurogane. Mokona peeps out of the top of the bag.

"Are we going to make it?"

Mokona makes a distressed sound, and Kurogane says extra firmly: "Yes, we  _will_."

Fai takes a deep breath. "Okay."

Kurogane doesn't say anything, but he takes a step back, and Mokona disappears back into bottom of the satchel hanging from his shoulder.

"…for now." Fai sounds tired.

It's taken its toll on both of them, the traveling. Fai's never had a home; perhaps Kurogane should have anticipated how scared he would be to finally settle on one. But it never occurred to him.

Kurogane says slowly, "We've got experience since we've done this before. It's just the same as always. We'll take this one step at a time. We can't get discouraged when we haven't done anything yet."

Fai just looks at him, face wan. Kurogane asked him not to lie anymore, and he won't.

"Is there some place you'd like to go? To do?"

Fai nods, eyes wandering...

"Where?"

Fai's eyes snap back to his face. "Kuro, don't laugh, okay?"

Kurogane blinks.

"I really...I want to visit a library." Fai still looks miserable. "I think I'm too tense to enjoy it, though."

Surprised, Kurogane says, "A library? But last time we…"

"Yes, I know, I know. We were forced to commit a felony. But not all libraries are like that; that place was actually rather abnormal. Most places don't place such a high value on knowledge as that..." Fai's voice grew faint. "It's just…I practically grew up in the palace library. Ashura-Ou taught me the basics of magic, but after that I had to study for myself. I was a princeling and a scholar for a very long time, and it was how I occupied myself. So few would willingly interact with me."

Come to think of it, unlike Kurogane, Fai had a lot of book knowledge…and he seemed to enjoy being around it. He shared that interest with the innocent clone Syaoran...

Ah. It was what he thought of as  _home_.

Fai was right, there was no way he could enjoy relaxing while he was jumpy as a frog in a tea kettle. Still, he didn't want Fai to reject his own idea—it was good, just not timely. Kurogane frowned.

"…probably wouldn't be able to read the language anyway," Fai mutters.

"What!"  _T_ _hat_  caught Kurogane's attention. "You can't read?"

Fai casts him an irritated look. "I can read  _s_ _ome_  languages, like  _mine_. I'm not illiterate. Just not this one."

"Oh." Kurogane palms his face, and hastily resecures the bag on his shoulder when Mokona turns in a slow circle, forming a small moving bulge. "Mokona can't help with that, can she?" He frowns.

Fai shrugs. "I don't think so."

"Yet again something else to work on," Kurogane grunts. "You'll need to know the language to perform on the tests."

Fai flinches. "I forgot about that."

"As did I, but the secretaries wouldn't let me sign up for anything sooner than a year in advance, so I think we're okay."

" _Seriously_?"

"Really."

"Oh."

"Anyhow, do you have any magic that could hurry the process along?"

"I know of some spells, yes, but I'd need to look up the details."

"Think Mokona could transport us and we could fetch your book?"

"No, the spell on Seresu…"

"…My fault..."

"No, it's not." Fai sighs. "But Yuuko might have some book on a similar subject in her stores. She probably inherited half the magic books of the known worlds from the magician Clow."

"Then I think it's time to pay Watanuki another visit."

* * *

They get back just in time to witness Kochoushu's lesson. Watanuki is teaching her to balance written spell diagrams—Kochoushu is sketching in pencil. Watanuki bends over her shoulder now and again to correct the obvious mistakes. When Fai and Kurogane enter, however, Watanuki straightens up gratefully and heads over to them.

"How's it going?" asks Kurogane, because it looks like Watanuki needs to vent for a bit.

"Thank goodness you're back. I just taught her the basics an hour ago, and look at her now." Watanuki chuckles nervously. "She'll surpass me in no time. If she practices, in six months she could do transport magic across worlds if she wishes.  _I_  can't even do that. She's just got a knack for it." He points. "Look at those drawings, Fai! I'm already getting a headache, they're so intricate…" he complains.

Fai's attention, at least, is caught. He smirks slightly and prowls his way to the table like a great cat. Scanning the table in a brief glance, leans over, points at some stuff, and begins whispering suggestions. Kochoushu looks up and replies, and they begin discussing ideas. In half a minute, Fai sits down next to her.

Watanuki eyes them, and sighs, "What a relief. I can't discuss this with her at all..."

Mokona sticks her head out of the bag hanging from Kurogane's shoulder, and Kurogane opens the top more fully and lets her hop out. "Is it that bad?" he asks, when he looks up.

"I'm a total amateur!"

"Is it like this with everything?" Kurogane asks in some concern.

Watanuki runs his hand through his hair. "No. Just sometimes. When it has to do with Yuuko's specialties."

"But she's not aware…?"

"Not like Shizuka is. Sometimes I think Doumeki actually has  _words_  with him; Shizuka seems to think of him as other, separate. Doumeki is the part of him with the wisdom and experience advising him from "outside" and then there's Shizuka himself, reborn without his preconceptions to new experiences. But with her, Kochoushu has a knack, a prompting that seems to come from her own self. Which is true, and…harder to address.  _It's her,_  I know it is, but the slate has been swept clean."

"I see."

Watanuki hangs his head. "I still haven't told her why I'm teaching her."

"Probably wise," Kurogane agrees.

"Kurogane, is it foolish to hope that Kochoushu has something in her of the adult Yuuko?"

"Either way, you're fulfilling your wish, aren't you?" Kurogane points out.

Watanuki nods.

"We can't live without hope."

"Yeah…."

"Just don't let your hopes cloud what you know of who she really is right now. Eh?" Kurogane touches his shoulder and steps back.

"If I can," Watanuki agrees. "I don't know if I can avoid it, though."

"You do your best, it's all you can do. Your wish is going to get complicated, but it wouldn't have been worth it if it didn't. Gods know that's how it was for us while we were traveling."

They watch Fai and Kochoushu discussing one drawing avidly, sketching out their ideas on different pieces of paper. Fai keeps adding artistic flourishes for fun, and Kochoushu's look more and more maze-like until she shows Fai one that makes him cross his eyes. Kochoushu giggles.

"Why'd you come back so early, anyway?" Watanuki asks suddenly.

"Oh." Kurogane starts. "Fai was wondering if we could borrow some of Yuuko's magic books. The ones on languages, and learning them, with magical techniques. I don't know what he was looking for in particular."

"Hm." Watanuki thinks. "I'm not sure how useful they'll be."

"That doesn't matter. I don't think Fai has much hope either, but any help at all would be good. He can't read, and he can't speak or listen without Mokona. He told me he wanted to visit a library today."

Watanuki smacks his forehead. "I completely forgot about the language barrier."

"So did I," said Kurogane somberly. "And…we started to wonder if we could ever call this place home."

"There is no place to go back to. You have only one option." Watanuki stretches. "You have to make your own home. Those who can stay where they were comfortable from birth are fortunate. Those who cannot—do their best. It takes time."

"That's what I told Fai."

"There, you see."

Kurogane shakes his head. "I don't know if it's enough."

"It probably won't be," Watanuki says quietly, "but you can't give up."

"But what  _is_  home? Is it our mother tongue, the stories our parents taught us, the lessons we learned? Is it the pillows and the beds and walls and the tables and the hearth? Is it comfort? Is it habit? Is it the smells and the sounds and the song of birds in the morning, or the feel of the floor under our bare feet? We don't have any of those things, Fai and I. We have nothing in common—not with each other, and not with this world. We have to learn all of those things. We have to find compromises, invent new traditions. Even though I was an orphan of Nippon, I had those things. And though I was angry for what I had lost, I was fortunate for what I had not. At least I had what was familiar to me." Kurogane speaks in a hushed whisper.

"No." Watanuki shakes his head. "That's not it at all."

"Then what is it?"

Watanuki leads Kurogane to the couch, and sits. Kurogane sits as well. "Home isn't a place. It can be attached to a place, but home is the people," Watanuki says, looking nowhere. "Home is nothing without the ones we love. Home is the way we live, day in, day out, so we can go out to meet them."

"What do you mean?"

"I was an orphan also, remember? My parents, the clones of Syaoran and Sakura, died when I was young. I remember nothing about them except that I loved them... Yuuko said I traded those memories to survive—or was it for someone else's survival? I was young, anyway. I was in the care of the government, but did not have a guardian. I had a landlady: she had a heart attack and died. Once I had a friend, until he went on to the next life as a ghost—although really he had been one all along. When I was with them, that was my home. I had an apartment of my own—the place you're living in now, actually—I lived in it, but it was nothing. It was merely a box for shelter. Home and house are completely different." Watanuki pushes his glasses up on his nose. "But I kept losing them."

Kurogane should interrupt, to say something, to stop the tirade sweeping out of Watanuki like blood spurting luridly from a vein. But he can't. He has to listen.

Watanuki keeps going, desperately. "It was Yuuko who helped me see what home was. She gave me my job. Through her I met Himawari and Doumeki, and I began to trust again.

"You know about my heritage." Watanuki looks up. "I wonder if he told you. When my twin Syaoran and I bargained for our lives, that time Fei-Wong threw his curse at us at the end of your journey, the price was not quite right."

" _What_?" Kurogane croaks.

Watanuki's gazes falls to the floor. "It was fine for Syaoran. Because," said Watanuki. "You and Fai were with him. He kept part of his home, even away from Sakura… He was remaking a home he never had, reforging those bonds scattered among the worlds. He paid in space, and it was enough. His journey would define the span of time he would pay. But I paid too much.

Watanuki covers his eyes with his hands. "I paid the price twice over. I paid in time through the extension of my life, and the restriction of my movements to the shop. In a way I had already paid it—the payment was already required. Just weeks before, I wished to see Yuuko again and grant her wish to see me live… When I made my choice in the void left by Fei-Wong, the balance was set to even.

Watanuki bends over, hunching over himself. "Then the payment was correct, but it wasn't  _right_." He exhales into his hands, steaming up his glasses. "I outlasted the home that was supposed to surround me. They died while I stayed young, and then none of them were left."

Only now that the payment is over is he able to admit what he did.

Kurogane doesn't know what to say. Like he had done when Syaoran was traveling with them, and his eyes became hooded, he presses Watanuki's face to his side and lets him hide there, while he waits for him to recover. Kurogane looks up and meets Fai's eyes across the room. Fai's lips thin into a straight line, not out of jealousy but of concern, and then he nods jerkily and turns his attention back to Kochoushu.

Kurogane has no idea how they are going to report this back to Syaoran.

Eventually Watanuki pushes back, and sits straight, looking at nothing in particular, not speaking. That also was Syaoran's way. In a low voice, he says, "My point is, Kurogane, that you can lose every thing you own and still keep your sense of home. On the other hand, if you lose your people…those things become nothing."

"It's the community we build that holds us here," Kurogane repeats.

Watanuki nods.

"Why none of the other worlds, then?" Kurogane wondered. "Why did we decide to come here?"

Watanuki shrugs. "It was up to both of you to decide. There was something weighing on you there, so you couldn't interact completely honestly with the people around you, even though you had broken the barriers between each other."

That was it. "The personas," Kurogane realized. "We never established bonds here. We met you, but we weren't yet acting quite like our personas—"

"Yes. And now that you're back, you aren't pressured to act that way. You've never been less than genuine to Doumeki and I." Watanuki smiles slightly. "I'm glad you trust us with that."

"It was a relief, as you said," Kurogane replies quietly. "Plus, you're Syaoran's…"

"I know who you are, but I'm not  _in_  the know, so to speak?" Watanuki's lips twist slightly. "I can call you out on the lies, but I don't yet know how you feel. So you get to decide."

Kurogane shrugs. "I wager you hit pretty close."

Watanuki stands, somewhat unsteadily. "It's my job to guess… Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to check on Kochoushu."

* * *

He holds the book by its spine, balances it and sifts the pages and lets it fall open, spreads the folds open with his fingers...

_一日四月 ( _April 1st, APRIL FOOLS)__

…His own birthday. Watanuki pauses, finger poised just above the letters, blocking his view of Doumeki's words scribbled in shorthand. He takes a deep breath and willfully moves his finger down, down, down.

_Lunch with Watanuki and Kunogi. Inarizushi delicious. Told him to make kitsune udon. He protested only yakisoba on hand but took out discreetly._

Watanuki stops.

Was this it? Did Doumeki only record his lunch exploits? Didn't he get bored of the same old pattern? Why would he write it in his journal?

_…always puts too much sauce. Rescued half-batch, started eating before he treated it. He hollered..._

Watanuki sighs. Sometimes he would give anything to kick his past self. His fingers slip, and the journal pages flutter until he has lost his place. He parts the pages carefully, checks his place—

_Kohane missed me, but—_

**_No!_ **

Watanuki slams the book shut, pushes it away from himself, and leaves it on the table.

_Not yet._

* * *

Shizuka walks in and glances at the book on the table, and decides not to bring it up. Instead he gets right to business. "Watanuki, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure." Watanuki looks up.

"I was wondering if you could come to a company meeting."

"What?"

"If you would accompany me as my friend."

"Out…side?"

"Yes. It's called a retreat." Shizuka makes a face. "My coworkers have been bothering me, wondering why I don't go out to drink and so on."

"Oh."

"I think it would help inter-office relations if they could see that I dote on a real person," Shizuka says stiffly.

Watanuki blinks. That smacks of the old Doumeki he knew. Then he wonders if Shizuka really means the word  _dote_ , rather than  _devote_. Actually, both words are rather tricky in this context. He decides to ignore it. "They've been giving you trouble because of me?"

"No, not really." Shizuka shuffles his feet. "It's just, I'd like to do something before they get more persistent."

"About what?" Watanuki asks, even more bewildered.

"…personal life," Shizuka mutters, barely audible, looking at the floor.

"Are they trying to marry you off, or something?" Watanuki asks, genuinely confused.

Shizuka shakes his head. "No, they're just curious…"

"I don't understand."

"I think they want to get to know me," he mumbles.

"Then what's the problem with that?"

Shizuka's at a total loss for words. If Watanuki doesn't understand, then he has to redefine his problem. Finally he manages: "I—don't—speak very well. In public."

For a moment Watanuki stares at him incredulously, trying to think about what in his experience matches up with his statement, and then he begins to smile.

"What?"

"Nothing…"

"No,  _what is it_?!" Shizuka is suddenly crazy with anxiety.

"I'm just remembering how you arrived on my doorstep." Watanuki grins despite himself. "Watanuki- _sama_!"

Shizuka immediately subsides, and scowls. "Not funny..."

Watanuki just grins to himself again. "If you say so. I see your problem. You're not very talkative when you're not around me? Doumeki wasn't a fast-talker either. He would say maybe two words at school parties, and still the girls flocked to him. I'll never understand why."

Shizuka doesn't think he's very talkative around Watanuki either. He's just more comfortable. He says nothing.

"Sure, I'll go with you," Watanuki continues. "So long as you get me a proper suit. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in an old-fashioned kimono. Your company is somewhat avant-guarde, isn't it? Still, it would stick out."

Shizuka nods.

"Also, you'll have to drag me out of the house, but I'm sure that's not a problem." Watanuki smiles his best, most secret smile. "You've done it before."

Shizuka smiles back the tiniest bit.


	8. Hands and Gestures

Shizuka looks at his watch. Time: ten till train. He checks on Watanuki.

Watanuki is struggling to put on his new suit.

Shizuka blinks at him slowly. Watanuki blushes and bursts out, "It's clingy!" and looks away, face burning.

Indeed, he does seem to be having trouble with the static. His shirt is just as new as the suit—fresh out of the packaging. Shizuka steps behind Watanuki and he freezes, twisting his neck to track where Shizuka is—

Shizuka pinches the cuff of Watanuki's sleeve and pulls the jacket sleeve. That done, he holds the other side out of Watanuki to slide his arm through—once Watanuki figures out what Shizuka wants, he does—and repeats the exercise. There. Now the jacket lies smoothly… Except actually. He frowns. There's a crease. Just one tug, and—

Watanuki gasps for breath and practically jumps out of his skin. "Wh-wh-what are you doing?" he stammers, sliding out of reach.

Shizuka immediately steps back to give him space and makes the "calm down" gesture. "I just made it lie flat. It's fixed now."

"It  _felt..._ weird," Watanuki grumbles, and pulls at the bottom edge of the suit. "Don't  _do_   _that_  again."

"Sorry. We have to go. It was faster…" Shizuka says apologetically.

"Fine, okay. It's fine," Watanuki says, waving his hand to dismiss the matter. "I was just surprised. Let's go?" Watanuki moves back to his side and lifts his hand, and Shizuka grasps it.

" _Un_. Let's go."

Bedroom. Kitchen. Bath room. Laundry. Closets. Living room. Genkan. Shoes. Door. Garden.

They stop in front of the wrought iron gate. Watanuki glances quickly at Shizuka's questioning face, his own curiously blank, and then he pushes the gate open himself—the hinges creak and moan a little—and they step through.

"Do you know where the train station is?" Shizuka asks.

Watanuki presses his lips together, then replies, "Unless they've moved it, or the streets changed. But I never went there often."

"Why don't you try and find it?" Shizuka suggests.

Watanuki shrugs. "If you wish."

As it turns out, Watanuki's memory is all right, although he got confused at one intersection until Shizuka told him to overlay the scene with what it used to look like, and pick the direction based on that.

They get to the station. There are people there—only a few—but they look at them uneasily. Watanuki gazes at their linked hands instead until they unfocus and blur together, but he can't help but ponder—what do, what is—they are—

Concerned, Shizuka peers into Watanuki's still face, and says slowly, "Do you think we should—"

And Watanuki wonders,  _what if_... He releases Shizuka's hand and the moment stretches, wider and wider. Watanuki gasps for breath and tears prick the corners of his eyes. The train station seems to be moving, closing in around him or getting larger, shadows are leaping with life that wasn't there before... He blinks but that only makes it worse, the world is just faster than before and he can't keep up. He can't keep up— His lungs are heaving and he hasn't even gone anywhere— He's just here, there's too much  _here,_ too much  _now_ —

"Oi!" Shizuka sees his face pale and his eyes turn glassy, and he grasps his shoulder and roughly drags him around to face him. Watanuki's hands rise, shaking, to his face, to border his glasses like makeshift blinders. "Are you okay?" Shizuka says clearly, ducking slightly so that they are eye level. "Do you know where you are?"

"I—yes—I think—now—" Watanuki says, and touches Shizuka's hand on his shoulder, at a loss for words. "Don't let—"

 _Don't let go._ Shizuka says, "I know," even though it seems redundant. It was Watanuki who had dropped his hand in fact.

"Train station," Watanuki mumbles, as a sort of explanation. "Loud. Too much." He stops, and swallows.

Shizuka draws himself back up to full height. "All right. Do you want to go back to the house?"

Watanuki shakes his head, extra-hard. "No. I'm fine now. I want to go. I don't know what that…was."

"If you're sure," says Shizuka, and they silently join hands again. This time Watanuki is preoccupied by more than the prying eyes. They get on the train and sit together. Shizuka tells him when to get up, and they get off the train together.

 _This_ station is nowhere Watanuki has ever been before, but then that's to be expected.

Shizuka digs in his pocket and comes out with a piece of paper with an address and a map which he squints at, then hands to Watanuki. Watanuki looks at it while Shizuka scouts for the correct exit. "C'mon." He pulls them through the throng, across the station, up the stairs, and back into the light outside. Watanuki takes a moment to take in the change in city landscape.

"Not what you're used to, eh?" Shizuka comments.

Hands clenching at his sides, Watanuki shakes his head.

They keep going. The destination isn't all that far: just a few blocks down, a couple of turns, and they wind up at a park. Shizuka pulls out his cell phone and calls. Watanuki looks around at the trees and the birds he can't identify and sort of sighs inside… There are probably all kinds of things lurking. They always did, in public places like this. Watanuki didn't particularly like parks as a kid. He doesn't think he'll be bothered, anymore, but it puts him a little on edge. If he sees any wandering sakura dead-hands he's not sure what he'll do, whether they can harm him or not.

"They're this way." Shizuka jerks his head in the right direction, and they set off again. They slow when Shizuka spots the group sitting on the blue tarps.

"Do you think you will be all right on your own now?" Shizuka asks him. "I don't want them to get the wrong idea if it will trouble you, but if it's necessary..."

Watanuki shakes his head. "Since we're not in transit, I think I will be okay. If I stay in that general area, I think so. It's well-marked."

"What happened to you when you let go of me?"

Watanuki smiles weakly. "I don't really know. But I think it's safer now that we are where we meant to go. This was our destination, so we won't be moving anymore." Watanuki slips his hand out of Shizuka's. Nothing happens. Watanuki smiles again, for reassurance. "You see? Let's go to where they are. We'll join hands again when it's time to leave."

Shizuka relaxes slightly, and admits, "I didn't think this was more than you could handle, but I was worried."

"It scared me too. But I'm glad to be here," Watanuki tells him.

They look towards at the group mingling around the blue tarps, and sigh at exactly the same time.

* * *

A few of the middle-aged coworkers and the managers are huddled around the barbecue and arguing over how to cook this and that. There are several rice cookers and tubs of warm food. Their wives are talking together in a ring, jabbering about their odd neighbors and bragging about their kids and children. A few of the women have brought their babies, and their husbands are with them. The young men and women stand off the side, laughing and joking.

As Shizuka and Watanuki approach, setting down their donation to the picnic, the people at the barbecue look up.

"Ah," says the manager, looking surprised, but he smiles kindly. He seems to be a cheerful, easy-going man. "You came, Doumeki-kun. That's rare, isn't it? And with a friend— Who did you bring?"

Shizuka quietly introduces Watanuki, and sets the dishes Watanuki insisted on making and bringing for everyone on the edge of the blue tarp.

"Well, this is unusual." The manager winks. "But we're glad you're here. Some of us were under the impression you didn't have any friends, eh?" He almost claps Shizuka's shoulder. Shizuka shifts his weight and ducks slightly, avoiding the manager's hand, his expression wooden. "See, like that!" the manager laughs.

Shizuka's face doesn't show any particular emotion other than a particular stiffness, a holding back that Watanuki interprets as discomfort. But what really hurt was seeing Shizuka's posture wince without words.

"I've never seen Shizuka as unsociable," Watanuki said, and deliberately let his words chill. Then he smiled, flashing sharp white teeth. "He's a quiet, kind soul really, if you let him be." Watanuki raised his eyebrows slightly, widening his deep blue and green eyes in a piercing, unsettling way. Shizuka has seen him flaunt his beauty in order to unsettle like this before, but this is the first time he's seen him struck by a dangerously predatory mood instead exuding the usual distant untouchability.

Shizuka's manager laughs shortly once, uncomfortably. He had been expecting agreement. "I see. Perhaps you shall show us another side to him… Let's see, have you met…?"

After briefly introducing Watanuki to the older people lingering about the grill, the awkward conversation ends almost as quickly as it began. In a few minutes, after perfunctorily greeting everyone there, Shizuka and Watanuki drift towards the center of the picnic.

"What was that?" Shizuka asks. "I've never seen you like that before…"

"Hm? Oh, with your manager?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't appreciate you," Watanuki says softly. "That angered me."

"He's just…"

Watanuki shook his head. "No." Shizuka stares at him blankly. "He demeaned you in front of me. Did you not notice?" Shizuka doesn't say anything. Watanuki sighs, and tells him softly, "You may be forced to endure it, but I can't allow that. I know who you are. Even if  _they_  don't. And I am allowed to point out their error."

Shizuka glances at him.

"Isn't that why you asked me here?"

Shizuka nods.

"Well then." Watanuki raises his chin and straightens his shoulders. "We'll see what happens."

Sure enough, a young man notices them, glances guiltily at the manager whose back is towards them, and peels off from the main group to meet them. Shizuka's _kohai._

"Hello," he says, subdued. "I didn't expect you to bring a friend."

Shizuka nods, again, and says, "This is Watanuki Kimihiro."

"Is he…?" Shizuka's  _kohai_  peeks at his impassive face tentatively.

"The one I spoke of earlier."

Shizuka's  _kohai_  flushes as Shizuka introduces him to Watanuki. His  _kohai's_ name is (Shizuka racks his brains) Mitsuki Mizuhara.

"I—I heard you were sick," says Mizuhara, and gulps.

Watanuki has to resist tucking his hands into his sleeves to hide them as he would if he were still wearing a kimono. Waiting for Mizuhara to go on, his turns on a generous smile—a much more friendly, albeit still distanced, attitude than he had worn with his manager, Shizuka notices. "Reports of my invalid state are greatly exaggerated," says Watanuki, still smiling, "but I believe we both know who to blame for that."

Shizuka shifts uncomfortably behind him, sensing that Watanuki is intent on playing this exchange out.

"Uh, right." Mizuhara bows nervously, for no discernible reason at all.

Watanuki waves his hand, dismissing Mizuhara's anxiousness. "Doumeki-san worries too much," he says airily. "What did he say about me this time?"

"Nothing," Mizuhara says, too quickly, and overcorrects. "He said you were going to die—" Somewhere in the background, someone knocks a cheap ceramic plate off the table on accident and it shatters, with expert timing. Mizuhara flinches.

Watanuki doesn't blink. "Hm. I see." Shizuka wonders when his eyes will start watering. They look over-bright. "Perhaps you misunderstood. I can see why he would say that," Watanuki muses, "but my frail condition is chronic, not fatal. There are still many things I am able to do, and recently I have improved. Hence why I am able to be here today, when he asked."

"Oh." Mizuhara glances at Shizuka, who resolutely stares forward, avoiding Mizuhara's direct gaze. "W-when did you meet?" Mizuhara blushes again.

"A few years ago. He was in high school," Watanuki says easily, and Shizuka nods in confirmation.

"I—I see," says Mizuhara. "That's a long time."

"Yes," Watanuki replies, smiling.

"And you meet often?"

"Yes."

"That's why he never—?" Mizuhara finds himself confused and conflicted. "Goes out with—?"

"Mizuhara-san." Watanuki commands his attention. "It is because he does not wish to."

"Oh. Okay. Lots of people don't like it," Mizuhara mumbles to himself; it doesn't sound as if he's really talking about Shizuka's behavior. Watanuki and Shizuka elect to let him save face and ignore this. He'll understand better someday.

Finally he looks up and clears his throat. "Since he said you were sick, I wasn't expecting you to be so pretty," he says bluntly.

Watanuki chuckles, letting the conversation flows on.

Mizuhara points to the picnic tables. "Did Doumeki- _sempai_  make those?" Mizuhara points to the dishes Shizuka had set down on the tables. "He hardly ever eats anything at work."

Watanuki shakes his head and corrects him gently. "No, those are mine."

"He  _eats_?!"

What kind of impression had Shizuka been making at work? "Yes, he does," Watanuki answers, amused. "And in good quantity."

Mizuhara stares at Watanuki.

"Watanuki is a very good cook," Shizuka says suddenly, and Mizuhara is startled even more. Watanuki begins to wonder, with some irritation, if Shizuka has ever thought about other ways of introducing him. Mizuhara stares at Shizuka even harder.

Shizuka quickly becomes uncomfortable. "What?" he says.

"Is he superhuman?" asks Mizuhara.

"Of course not. Why?" says Watanuki.

"Because!" Mizuhara bursts out. "You never pay any attention to us! He never eats anything we make!"

"Why be upset, Mizuhara?" someone taunts from the next group over, having overheard. "That way there's more left for us!"

Mizuhara huffs and looks away.

"You say he's a good cook, Doumeki-kun?" asks another voice, one of the expressive young women with longish winged hair and busy hands, grinning. "Does he teach? That would be worth paying for. I can't cook worth a damn!"

As she approaches, Mizuhara uses her interruption to slip away.

Watanuki turns to the woman. "I have been known to do so in the past," says Watanuki, smiling, "if it is your wish." He bows, hand over his heart.

" _O-ho!_ " She laughs. "Why, so polite! It's archaic! How did you find him, Doumeki-kun?"

Shizuka shrugs, and says lamely, "He's always been a family friend. I don't remember, really; I just found him one day. Watanuki, this is Taraga Kanako-san."

Kanako beams. "Hi, nice to meet you! So you've always been together? That's amazing! Did you hit it off right away?"

They nod and smile, somewhat tightly. "It was almost…nine years ago now?" Watanuki asks, and Shizuka nods.

Kanako lightly punches Shizuka's shoulder. Shizuka looks down and shuffles his feet, but doesn't shy away. "You always surprise me, Doumeki-kun," she says, and then, turning to Watanuki, "I keep trying to get through to this guy, but he never talks back to me!"

Watanuki laughs. "He doesn't like talking much, it's true. It runs in the family. You just have to keep talking  _at_  him. But you know, when it really matters, he talks back."

"Oh, I've noticed that too!" Kanako says, delighted. "You think he's not listening and then,  _bam_ , he comes up with this great idea and it's already complete. He hardly consults anyone else or anything. And I would never know he was working on it!"

" _Really_?!" Watanuki groans, turning to Shizuka. "How can you get away with that at work? You should  _t_ _ell_ people what you're doing so they can prepare!"

Shizuka looks up, and says slowly, "But I just think about the problem… I don't know if I'm going to get anywhere when I start, so…" he trails off. "It's hard to explain..."

Kanako smiles behind her hand. "A little warning goes a long way. I'd hate it for your sake if I commissioned something and you came up with something better, Doumeki-kun!"

"It's fine," Shizuka says stiffly. "It's not like I didn't want to..."

"That's so no good! I have my pride, you know. Credit should go to the one who deserves it." Kanako tosses back her hair and says confidently, "You'd be doing  _me_  a favor!"

Shizuka bows slightly. "I will endeavor to do better in the future."

She playfully smacks his shoulder. "Man, you're so uptight! Live a little! Go on, have fun!"

"I'm sorry," Shizuka says helplessly. He doesn't know what else to say.

She chuckles to see him discomfited. "Then see you later, Doumeki-kun! Perhaps we should talk sometime, Watanuki-san."

"Taraga Kanako-san seems close," Watanuki comments, once she's out of earshot.

"I don't know what she wants from me."

"You silly, she wants to be friends with you," Watanuki chides. "She admires you."

"You can tell?"

"Weren't you  _listening_?"

"I don't know?" Shizuka says it like a question. "I remember what she says but I didn't understand her."

Watanuki sighs in exasperation. "You surprise her in a good way and she wants to make sure to give you proper recognition for it, but you won't let her. And she likes teasing you. She wants to get to know you better."

"But I never know what to  _say_."

"Shizuka, it doesn't matter. She's just happy when you respond. You just don't have to be serious all the time."

"But I don't—" Shizuka says in distress.

"Well, that's part of what she likes about you, isn't it? As a friend anyway," Watanuki says reasonably. "She likes making you flustered. You just be yourself. If you could respond even once with a random pun or a joke or say something silly, she'd probably die laughing, even if it was terrible. And then she'd know you like her back. You don't have to be anxious; she's easy to get along with."

Shizuka makes a  _hnnn_  noise and frowns.

"You like her better than your manager, or Mizuhara-san, at any rate. He was irritating you." Watanuki chuckles. "C'mon, introduce me to some more people. It'll be fun."

"Sure," Shizuka agrees, drifting uncertainly toward the group of young people, and they move to let him them both in.

* * *

Watanuki ends up doing the talking for most of the evening. Shizuka doesn't seem to mind.

It's more fun for Shizuka when the activities start, which have a clearly defined goal and purpose. First there is the eating and the drinking (Shizuka partakes of Watanuki's wholeheartedly and sparingly of his coworkers', just enough not to offend, with the sole exception of Kanako's offering), then the games, and finally karaoke.

Somehow, at some point in the last year it was revealed that Shizuka can sing, and of all the employees, the girls most enjoy requesting songs of him. This is all very well: he performs every requested song that he knows in a low, perfectly controlled voice with few mistakes and the faintest of flairs, showing only a little emotion. Attractive, but not sexy. It is hard to tell what Shizuka thinks of his role, and he seems puzzled, though not bothered, by the attention.

Watanuki remembers what this was like back in high school with Doumeki. Not centered around karaoke per se, but it was exactly the same. In his recollections he finds memories filled with stabs of jealousy and masses of confusion which turned into long incoherent rants on walks home, during which Doumeki stuck a finger in his ear.

He understands a little better now, but still not completely: for instance—he knows that Doumeki was, and Shizuka is, disinterested—but why? Why did he perform, and why did he never get closer to any of the girls who liked him? It was all so...passionless.

He's been off to the side, brooding and drinking quietly, watching and waiting for Shizuka to finish. He hadn't expected to sing himself but then Shizuka catches his eye and offers him the mike, exchanging it for Watanuki's drink. Watanuki takes the mike blankly.

"It's classical  _enka,_ " Shizuka explains, almost apologetically, motioning to the girls. "So not in my repertoire. I couldn't, for them, but I thought you might know it."

Mystified, Watanuki looks at the microphone in his hands. "You expect rather a lot of me..."

Shizuka simply smiles. "You can do it," he says calmly. "If you don't, then no one can."

Swallowing, Watanuki faces the music. By luck or calculation, this is a song that Watanuki happens to know, to his relief. He opens his mouth to sing...

The breath that carries his voice is thin and fragile, gossamer as a moonbeam. Every attempt to strengthen it quavers, making it sound reedy, but it slides easily enough up and down the scale. It is true, that this is singing, yet it feels ungrounded, floating apart from him—so unlike Shizuka's low-gliding humming, or the men's mournful howling, or the women's birdlike chirping. It is a cat's polished caterwauling, this song, foreign to the throat and alien to the ears. As he sings the music evolves slowly. He doesn't know at what part, he's just forming the syllables and guiding them up and down the scale, not even fully aware of what they mean; but at some point, tears spring to the eyes and blur the words displayed by the portable jukebox.

He's about to choke and lose the thread of the song when Shizuka leans in, wrapping his large hand around Watanuki's finger's grip on the mike, and they sing the ending chorus together. Shizuka's voice is changed, no longer rigid and flat, no longer merely pleasant; near the end he rasps, and would have lost his grip on the song if Watanuki was not there to guide him. When the music stops, for a long few seconds, Watanuki blinks back the water in his eyes and gets his breath back, completely exhausted.

When he finally looks at his audience, they are all quiet and staring, wide-eyed, astounded.

Shizuka slowly peels his palm from Watanuki's hand, and Watanuki carefully loosens his grip and relinquishes it to another girl.

He turns away then. "I think," he says, unsteadily, "That that's enough for tonight, Shizuka." He means to pitch his voice softly so only Shizuka can hear it, but he doesn't quite manage it; his voice breaks on his name. "Take me back, please." Suppressed panic tinges his last words.

Shizuka offers his arm and Watanuki takes it gratefully, leans on it, because he is tired. They must all think he is weak and ill anyway; it's enough of an excuse, and Watanuki needs the support. They turn, and vanish into the night. Halfway across the park, Watanuki slips his hand into Shizuka's hands and grips it tightly.

It had been a long day, but they had left early, only an hour before midnight.

"Should we have left earlier?" Shizuka asks.

Watanuki twitches. "No..."

"Spirits are stronger at night, aren't they?"

"They are." But it doesn't seem that is the cause of the distress…

They enter the well-lit train station.

"Was it like before, when you dropped my hand?"

About to protest, Watanuki opens his mouth, then closes it. "In a way," he says finally.

The train comes rattling and roaring into the station, and they are buffeted by the wind; Watanuki staggers. When the doors open, they step forward and enter. Shizuka pulls Watanuki into the seat beside him; Watanuki dazedly gazes past the window and reads the writing on the sign:  _please_   _make room for children, pregnant women, and the elderly_...

But it's late enough that they happen to be the only ones in this train compartment. It creates a moment of vertigo when he realizes he has all the experience to be considered elderly, and yet not… It's not a thing he ever thought about wanting, but here it is, a pang of loss for something he doesn't even know if he understands.

Shizuka sighs and pulls Watanuki closer, under his chin, and because he is tired, Watanuki permits him, though it is not a thing he has ever allowed before. "Was that all?"

"I'm afraid of being lost in this new world." Watanuki closes his eyes briefly. "When I dropped your hand, I lost my sense of you, and was frightened… Once we arrived, my anxiety was not as high, and I was fairly sure I would not experience the same thing again."

"Ah." Shizuka's breath ruffles the hairs of Watanuki's head.

Watanuki rolls his head against Shizuka's shoulder to get comfortable. "It was the singing that did it this time."

"I didn't think you were shy."

"No," Watanuki agrees. "But you..."

Shizuka shifts in puzzlement. "What about me?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "We exposed our feelings, and I..." He goes quiet, finding himself in a pensive mood. Searching for things to look at, his eyes fall on the cuff of Shizuka's left sleeve.

"What?"

For a moment he's so distracted that he can't remember what he was saying. How strange to fixate on these simple things, without knowing why. Except that for right now, it strikes him as beautiful. "…I don't trust," Watanuki murmurs after a moment, and — hesitating — touches Shizuka's left wrist with his right hand. He's being childish, he knows...

"I don't understand," says Shizuka, casually shifting his left arm across his lap so that Watanuki can reach his wrist more easily; he's curious to know what Watanuki wants with it.

"Those feelings aren't theirs to see. They're just…" Watanuki shakes his head, and plays idly with a button on Shizuka's sleeve with his left hand. Shizuka watches him do so.

"Just ours."

"Yes, well…I didn't expect to let them loose like that." Watanuki succeeds in single-handedly unbottoning the cuff of Shizuka's sleeve. "Revealing myself. It's not for other eyes."

"Neither did I," Shizuka murmurs.

Watanuki smooths the cuff's cotton fabric with an air of finality. "That's why I had to leave."

Shizuka nods. "You were right."

Watanuki buttons Shizuka's sleeve again, retracts his hand, and straightens up a little. Their stop is imminent.

"See," says Shizuka, smiling, "You know what do do."

Watanuki frowns and shakes his head.  _Only because you are here._ "I'm just exhausted."

"It was well done," says Shizuka quietly. "So thank you.  _Otsukaresama deshita._ "

* * *

The next morning Watanuki wakes up with a slight hangover, and the sense of being alone is extremely acute. It hangs there, like the still sterility of the air and the impersonal, flickering white light he installed in the bathroom. (That had been a mistake. When it requires replacement, he will ask Shizuka—or maybe Kochoushu, these days—to fetch a softer one from the department store...)

If there was anyone else around, however, the experience would be viscerally much worse, he is sure. Watching Mokona's bouncing nauseates him slightly, gods forbid she  _speaks_ , and even her padded rabbit feet make muffled sounds that cause him to wince. Worst of all, perhaps, is unwillingly paying attention to his own body: the sticky paste coating his mouth, drying sweat on his skin, soreness pulling at his joints, the sound that his clothing makes as it rustles...

It takes him much longer than it should to go through his morning routine: brush teeth, shower, dry, and pull on clothes without paying much attention to which. As he exits his room, he heads for the kitchen, and passes through the living room…

Doumeki—

Wait.

 _Shizuka_  is sleeping sprawled over Yuuko's couch. It doesn't make much sense, because he is a little too long for it, and Watanuki thinks he remembers seeing Shizuka out...

He frowns. But he hadn't watched Shizuka leave. So maybe he had just said good night and went back—

What  _was_  Shizuka thinking?

He was still wearing his tie, only slightly loosened, and is still fully dressed in his dress clothes. It must be most uncomfortable.

Watanuki listens. Shizuka is still breathing, very softly.

The house wasn't quite as alone as he thought.

After slapping together Yuuko's hangover remedy and adding a weak healing spell on top of it (another one of Yuuko's little secrets), Watanuki makes breakfast. Shizuka doesn't rouse, although Watanuki thought the smell might wake him.

Watanuki racks his brains for something to do. He briefly considers the journals, and dismisses the idea. Shizuka is here; it wouldn't be comfortable. There are preparations of various kinds, lessons he could teach Kochoushu, but at the moment thinking about Kochoushu only makes his head hurt more. If only there was something he could teach her that she wouldn't absorb like a preternaturally precocious sponge. But as it is, he can't think of a single idea. Nor does he particularly feel like getting into it at the moment.

Watanuki turns and looks. Shizuka is sleeping deeply.

Although still uneasy, Watanuki makes up his mind. Yes. Fine. The journals.

He gets up to fetch them and finishes eating his breakfast while paging over the contents. He decided to begin at the beginning this time, and not flip through the middle to avoid…whatever he had experienced when he tried the last time. Now that he has decided that, however, the temptation to skip ahead makes him anxious. The beginning of it is entirely ordinary, full of things he already knows...

He's been sitting at the table for quite a while. Eventually it starts to bother him. The wooden chair and table are too hard.

Watanuki clears his dishes and moves to the stuffed chair by the window across the room. After a few minutes he can't help but notice the cold air that moves through an ancient crack in the glass. For another half an hour he suffers it, but then he moves again.

There's another chair next to Shizuka, positioned just so that Shizuka can't see him. He can use that. The hair rises on the back of his scalp. He's pretty sure Shizuka's asleep but if he wakes, he wants to know.

Sighing, he sits down cross-legged near the middle of the couch and begins to read in earnest.

* * *

_April_

_Kohane said we were mixed together. She wasn't talking about the eye, but I am unsure how. If I changed, I do not remember changing. I was simply presented with a choice…but I feel myself to be the same now, as before. She doesn't think so. If I cannot explain how I am different from before, how can the difference be significant?_

_Yuuko claims she changed as a result of knowing Watanuki. I am unable to judge; but, she remains unspecific._

_Somehow, even after all that has happened, I feel the change has been insufficient… I cannot shake the premonition that the changes have not gone deep enough, far enough, that the time is short and we might lose him. I do not yet know what I mean by that, 'to lose,' because there are too many ways to lose a person. They simply slip away. And what is soon? The witch is even more troubled than I, yet she keeps herself still, without any sense of urgency. As if Watanuki has all the time in the world, to realize on his own…_

* * *

Watanuki turns the page and nearly jumps out of his skin when Shizuka stretches in his sleep and his arm falls down so his fingers fall limply on Watanuki shoulder. Gulping, Watanuki looks up carefully, but Shizuka is still asleep. After a moment, he bends back to the book.

* * *

_May_

_I knew I shouldn't, but holding on to the secret got so bad that I wanted to tell him about the egg today, but I couldn't find a place to bring it up. Every time I brought it out of my pocket, Watanuki came out and said something and I slipped it back in. I didn't have the courage. I left that day guilty and depressed._

_Yuuko didn't tell me not to tell him. I figured it out on my own. If Watanuki finds out, the tool she gave me won't be effective at all. I'll carry the egg for a while longer just as I keep holding on to this question—how much longer can I go on without making a choice?..._

_August_

_Kohane finally put her finger on how I changed, so I asked her why._ _She paused and gathered her thoughts. "You found the person you wanted most to protect."_

_"You could say the same for Yuuko," I replied. "When she can."_

_She nodded. "It changes your self very little, but it changes things about you. What you're willing to do, who you love, the wishes you have."_

_"Then it is limiting," I clarified. "If we are constrained to do less."_

_Kohane shook her head. "Never. For that person, you can do so much more. Because of who he is, you need that ability."_

_Why, then, if I have such potential in me, do I not know what is 'more'? Where am I failing him?… I already know I can't stop him. What argument is there that can persuade him? I am not good with words._

* * *

Watanuki stops and sets the down journal on the low coffee table, and rattles it by accident. On the couch, Shizuka jumps and sits up before he really knows where he is, and his stray hand almost knocks Watanuki glasses off his face, though Watanuki tried to duck. Shizuka yawns.

"What was that?" Shizuka rubbed his eyes. "Watanuki? Why are you sitting there? That's a bad spot, I almost knocked you down..."

"It was a book," said Watanuki, irritated. "And shouldn't I be asking  _you_  what you're doing sleeping in my house?"

Shizuka yawned again. "Oh. That. I just got tired. You left without seeing me out, so I…" he shrugged, looking around. "You said 'book' but you were talking about Doumeki's first journal." Shizuka frowns and fixes his stare on Watanuki.

Watanuki wraps his arms around his knees. "Yeah."

"You didn't want to read it in front of me, did you?"

"Well, I couldn't read it anywhere else, could I?!" Watanuki snaps, without thinking, as he would if he was speaking to Doumeki. He turns red. "But not with you looking!"

"I see," says Shizuka, and leans over him to picks up the journal and glances at the last page Watanuki read. His face is inscrutable. "Oh, you're still on that part."

Watanuki glowers at him, turning even redder.

Shizuka stretches. "My great-grandfather made some mistakes with you. It's my job not to repeat them, but dwelling on the past doesn't help very much."

"So what was his mistake?" Watanuki grumbles.

"That he didn't confront you until almost the day he died. By which point, you couldn't change."

"I wasn't going to," Watanuki says vehemently.

Shizuka shakes his head. "Whether you would or not isn't the point. You  _might_  have. You could have worked out another solution to waiting for Yuuko. The rules of the wishing shop are flexible enough to have handle that. But my great-grandfather never thought that changing your mind would involve anything less than demanding that you absolutely had to stop waiting for her. He didn't believe he was important enough to you to do that, and he didn't want to make you choose between him or her. So he bore with it, and never ended up telling you his frustrations or feelings. He thought he had to keep your choice pure, and never 'cheat.' That was his mistake."

"What would have been cheating?"

Shizuka picks up his hand. Watanuki looks at it uncomprehendingly. "This," says Shizuka, and presses his lips to the backs of Watanuki's knuckles.

Watanuki still looks confused.

Shizuka sighs in exasperation. "Fine then. I wasn't planning to do this, but Doumeki's memory has been showing me pretty clearly that we've already gone farther today than he  _ever_  did with you. Do you mind if I show you?"

" _What_?" Watanuki squawks faintly.

Shizuka pulls Watanuki forward and kisses him. " _That_." Shizuka releases Watanuki's shoulders and sits back again. "Do you understand?"

Watanuki nods mutely, looking stunned and ashamed.

"Those feelings haven't faded from us, Watanuki," Shizuka says softly. "We are still waiting for your answer."

Watanuki swallows.

"In truth, I don't want you to read any more of the journals. They'll hurt you," says Shizuka. "But since you have decided you must, I'd like to be there for you when you read them."

"All right," Watanuki whispers. "All right."

Shizuka pulled him into his arms and held him tight. Watanuki sagged, then cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Um. It had to happen someday. Everything's out in the open.
> 
> As for the touchy-feely stuff—Watanuki craves it, a lot. He has a huuuuge deficit for human contact and since he's become fairly comfortable with Shizuka when Shizuka initiates it, Watanuki can start reaching out himself.
> 
> Whether this is the same thing as love is another question entirely, but it will help Watanuki towards realizing what he feels.
> 
> I really have no business writing about Japanese companies or their retreats. Please take everything with a grain of salt.


	9. At the Foot of the Sakura

Kochoushu wakes up, heart hammering in her chest, and sits up in bed with a gasp.

She can see nothing of the rooms beyond this one; there is just this darkness, which feels as if it hangs over the room like a heavy veil, or perhaps a cloying substance. With one trembling hand, she makes a clawed warding gesture like Watanuki taught her, then turns on the light. To her relief, the lamp glows warmly.

Even so, the dream weighs on her limbs. She remembers hanging from her wrists in the darkness, the stolen breath leached from paper-thin lungs, a body of cobwebs and dust at long last allowed to crumble away.

As she always calmed herself since she was young, she meditates. Slowly she refocuses her eyes to look beyond and further into the past. She sees the previous inhabitants, and the building of the house, and the field that had been, and the farm before it, and deeper and deeper into a deep green forest that never seemed to end, waxing and waning to appear older or younger. 500 years of history, perhaps; that is the limit she reckons her Sight can see.

She opens her eyes. All is still.

Today, perhaps she will speak to Watanuki. She tilts her head. Or not.

She feels like dressing for the occasion. She roots through her closet, searching for the appropriate attire amongst the racks, which she pushes this way and that. To her irritation, most of her clothes look too young. Her mother keeps hoping that she will take to wearing white as if she was still a little girl. Kochoushu has trouble remembering what it was like, to feel merely "pretty" and "cute" in those colors. Right now, she wants something dark and lean and red...

At last, she finds the right one. She fishes it off the hanger and slips it on. Next: a necklace, bangles, patterned tights, and tall heeled shoes.

Kochoushu frowns at herself in the mirror and taps a comb on the dresser. This is what she wants, and yet it also feels like dressing up: not like trying to be someone "else," but trying vainly to emulate the person she is going to become, but isn't yet. As if she is skipping steps.

She puts on the earrings, and feels a little sad. Making a face in the mirror, she squares her shoulders and tosses her long hair over her shoulder. It can't be helped. She is who she is right now.

Will Watanuki look at her differently, she wonders, on the day she becomes that person?

She frustrates herself with such thoughts. It wasn't as if her desire to be the person-she-wasn't-yet had changed since she met Watanuki: the gap between that self, and this one, had only shortened drastically, faster than the gap had closed at any other point in her life since she had become aware of discrepancy, around the time when she became a woman.

Kochoushu throws the comb at her pillow in a fit of pique and glowers at the mirror.

But she can't hold the frown for long. A smug, confident smile tugs at her lips, and she feels better.

Kochoushu takes her copy of the house key and takes off for the wishing shop. Her stomach grumbles as she walks, but the thought of Watanuki's food is more appealing than anything she could make for herself at home, and she knows he would never let her work on an empty stomach.

Thoughts of tricking him into making breakfast put a spring in her step, so she almost isn't paying attention when she walks into the square haunted by what she called the "sometimes" sakura tree, the Blood Sakura, and the hair rises on the back of her neck.

Without willing it, images of the deaths that have occurred here rise before her eyes— _corpses buried, decapitated, bodies drained of blood, hanged men,_ seppuku  _and a pale face wearing a yuki-onna's triumphant smirk_ _, bodies broken, a spate of gruesome but artistically arranged remains, ribbons and waving branches and elaborate lures devouring...the stench of decaying, sheer death..._ and Kochoushu doubles over and gags. This is even more urgent, and recent.  _The wind whistling around the mighty trunk, a two boys and a promise, marks and a spell of forgetting—black gloves—cruel mercy—substitute sacrifice in a whirl of white—white lab coat, clinical disinterest—spatters of blood, mixed eyes. Hand through heart. Bleeding out... Heart through hand. A new master..._

Kochoushu wipes tears from her eyes, shuddering. During the vision she had fallen to her knees; she picks herself up, now, and steps back. The history of this place has never been so strong before.

 _Sterile,_  moans the tree, a whisper in her mind.  _Artless, clean...stale...prey...hunger_

She never heard the tree speak before, if this could be called speaking: the creaking of wood, the waving of the branches, looming and fattening, the impression the tree evokes with its power. She is rooted to where she stands, mesmerized. The branches reach for her, closer and closer, and she can't move, even if she wanted to...

She feels two hands grasp her shoulders from behind, and she starts violently, but the grip is very firm. Before she can react, he turns her around, and Kochoushu finds herself staring into the face of the betrayed one, older and wiser and infinitely sadder in middle age. She senses that at this point, it's too late to run; but this man, of all the people connected to this bloody tree, might be reasoned with. He was not indoctrinated into the work, after all, but coerced. Unlike his predecessors, the appearance of gentility is not illusion, but genuine.

This does not make him any less fundamentally deadly.

"I felt the security spells breach," says the man, too calmly. "Truly, I would rather not have to kill you, but you saw me at work."

Kochoushu shakes her head. "No, I didn't."

"Oh?" A flash of interest spreads across his face, a hope he quickly crushes. But he asks.

"I didn't see  _you_. I saw the past," she says quickly between breaths.

The man's eyebrows lift. "Is that so? Then I apologize. However..."

Alarm flashes through her; she is losing her chance. "Also, I think you should know that I, I am under the protection of my teacher, Watanuki Kimihiro," Kochoushu gasps out in a rush, grasping for the only connection she can think of to save herself.

The man relaxes and smiles faintly. "I was about to say, all the more reason to let you alone. The shopkeeper could certainly corroborate your story, though I'm afraid we don't keep in touch. Perhaps this was fate after all... _u_ _nmei._ " He says it, and a shadow crosses his face... "As it happens, I am in need of a favor only he can grant, if it can be granted at all."

"You mean a wish?" Kochoushu asks foolishly.

"If he insists on calling it so." The man releases her, and studies her. "But my true wish was thwarted many years ago. All that is left are pale shadows brought about by its consequences... You remind me of someone," he says abruptly.

"Who?" Kochoushu says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear out of nervousness.

He gazes at her for a few seconds more, then shakes his head. "Upon reflection, I believe it would be wiser not to say."

A brief spasm of frustration flashes over her face. "Why not?"

He smiles sadly. " _Unmei_  is not often kind, and you have the opportunity to make your own path. Why not make the most of it, little witch? If it is meant to be, you will discover the truth for yourself in due time."

She crosses her arms. "Not necessarily." He shrugs, and she frowns and changes the subject. "How do you know I am a  _witch_ , particularly, and not—?"

"—some other type of practitioner?" the man finishes wryly. "I can feel it in the shape of your magic, which is not unfamiliar. You could say it has a keen sense of balance, give and take, and a uniquely Shinto slant. It is, for the most part, diagnostic. It is not a specialty intended for battle, which is why I was surprised to find my wards breached."

"I'm afraid I don't know how I got past them myself, because I simply didn't notice them. I've found this place before, but..." Kochoushu stops.

The man's eyes widen, definitely taken aback. "Before?  _Without_  shredding the alarm spells? And you didn't even feel...? You are  _most_  formidable."

"I never  _mean_  to come here. Just, suddenly..." Kochoushu says weakly. "I think I forgot the way  _not_  to come today."

He frowns. "We must remedy that at once. Given who you are, it would only make sense. Today you were very lucky. It wouldn't do to have interruptions, even if incidents do happen more rarely these days..." he murmurs to himself. "But of course it would only be polite to have a quiet word with your teacher. His student should not be wandering about unprotected. I don't suppose you could lead the way?"

"I was actually on my way there..."

"Well met indeed."

So Kouchoushu lead Japan's most dangerous and formidable assassin, the last of the Sakurazukamori, to the wishing shop.

* * *

"When you stayed the night after the retreat, I didn't think you would be staying all weekend," Watanuki snipes.

Shizuka flicks the newspaper he's reading, and doesn't otherwise react.

"Hey, are you listening to me?!"

Shizuka shrugs.

Watanuki sighs. "What do you think you're doing," he mutters, and gets up to brew tea. "Kochoushu's late."

Shizuka looks up.

"Oh, she's coming  _now,"_ Watanuki says, in response to Shizuka's inquiring look. "I wouldn't be too concerned."

Shizuka shook his head and finishes his bowl of rice and hands it to Watanuki for seconds before Watanuki has left. Watanuki rolls his eyes, whisks into the kitchen to refill it, and puts on the kettle before the doorbell rings—and Watanuki nearly jumps out of his skin. Watanuki dumps Shizuka's rice on the table and rushes to answer the door, shedding his apron as he goes and tossing it on a convenient chair.

"What?" Shizuka looks from the door to Watanuki and back.

" _Death_ —" comes the hissed reply, just barely enough time for a hasty warning, as the door clicks open.

Shizuka pushes back his chair, stands—turns—

He sees Watanuki bow deeply. "Good morning. I'm afraid you have my student in your care." Watanuki's voice somehow passes for calm, but he is forced to skim over the syllables of his words, and the greeting is not as impartial as is customary when he is acting as shopkeeper.

"Yes, I came to return her," comes the reply from a man Shizuka cannot see.

"You have my thanks." The  _genkan_  creaks; shoes thud onto the wooden platform.

"No, not at all. It was a relief." The wood of the  _genkan_  creaks again. "Though it is necessary, I possess no fondness for my job."

"I understand..." Watanuki's voice falls.

Kochoushu emerges first, ahead of them all; she scurries around the corner to Shizuka's side and plops down next to him. She points to the rice bowl.  _Rice? Breakfast?_

Shizuka points to the kitchen. Kochoushu takes off like a shot, eager to put distance between herself and their visitor.

Watanuki emerges with the Sakurazukamori in tow. The Sakurazukamori surveys his surroundings appraisingly. "In the middle of breakfast, I see. My errand can wait a little longer; please, finish your meal."

Exchanging glances with Watanuki, Shizuka slowly sits back down. The Sakurazukamori draws up a seat beside him, and Watanuki sits next to Shizuka, opposite the Sakurazukamori. "Would you do me the honor of introducing us?" the Sakurazukamori asks politely.

"Sakurazukamori, this is my friend, Shizuka Doumeki. Shizuka, this is Subaru Sumeragi Sakurazukamori. He is...older than he looks. He found himself in the wrong trade for his talents, you might say."

Shizuka is on high alert, and doesn't react or respond. He sits very still, eyes darting between the two magic workers.

The Sakurazukamori laughs bitterly under his breath. "My grandmother couldn't come to terms with it..."

"We both know magic serves its own ends."

"It is so. In fact, it is about such a matter that I have come to consult you."

"I would never have assumed you had come  _only_  to escort my student. Coincidences do not exist in this world." Watanuki smiles tightly.

"Sadly, I am not in a position to debate..." the Sakurazukamori trails off. "But I would not deny that the timing may have been fortunate for her sake, as well."

Watanuki frowns suddenly. "In fact, I would very much like to know how she ended up on your territory. I thought you were too good for that."

"So did I. But it's in her nature." The Sakurazukamori lowers his voice. "And it's in her title."

"The Witch of Space and Time? The Dimensional Witch?"

"Yes. I was not aware of her presence until today, but she claims she has found the Blood Sakura before." The Sakurazukamori looks at Watanuki expectantly.

Watanuki massages his temples, aware of an impending headache. "Unfortunately, I am not aware of the protocol for this situation. Is there something you would advise that I teach her?"

"Yes. Many things." The Sakurazukamori's voice is clipped. "Perhaps we should put the matter aside as a possibility for payment?"

Watanuki nods and bows slightly. "I will consider it. Thank you for the suggestion."

"Then in the interest of time I shall go ahead and describe the favor I have to ask of you. I am sure you are aware of my peculiar status?"

"I have heard rumors, yes. Would you continue to explain?"

"As the Sakurazukamori, I can only be killed by the one I love, who becomes my successor. However, that man was my predecessor, and thanks to the spell wrought by my twin sister, he chose death by my hand, and it was not my choice. The simple fact is that there is no one to succeed me. I will never fall in love again. I ask that you look into my future and tell me if that is not so."

Watanuki is already shaking his head.

The Sakurazukamori nods once. "Then I have my twin to thank for effectively ending the Sakurazukamori. In all its irony, it is the greatest triumph any of the Sumeragis have ever had over their adversary. Yet here I stand, a failure as a Sumeragi and a reluctant Sakurazukamori."

"Regardless of the rumors of your unique circumstances, it did not occur to me to wonder what happened to you after you took on the job," Watanuki admits. "Our paths have never crossed before, even as professionals."

"I met Ichihara Yuuko when she was alive," the Sakurazukamori said gravely, "and I was not even a trained  _onmyouji_  then. It is well past time..."

"...to end the line for good. I understand you." Watanuki looks tired. "Why have you not aged?"

"The  _sakura_  did not will it. It has power and a mind of its own, and it knows that when I die, it will as well. I have used this fact to my own advantage to minimize the number of sacrifices it requires to sustain it, but it retaliated. It has long been in my mind to speak with you, but seeing your student helped to bring the thought to the forefront, to ask you for advice or aid."

Watanuki props his chin up on one hand. "I do not wish to incur the wrath of the Blood Sakura _._ "

"No, indeed."

Watanuki drums the fingers of the other hand on the table. "It seems unwise to attack it directly."

"I am bound to defend it," states the Sakurazukamori. "If the tree dies, it must be done through natural means, most likely after my own death. But I am not entirely certain."

"I figured as much. But I must think on the matter."

"By all means, finish your breakfast," the Sakurazukamori says.

Watanuki rises to his feet and pushes back on his chair. "Then if you'll excuse me, I'd like to check on Kochoushu..."

"Go ahead."

Watanuki strides into the kitchen.

* * *

Kochoushu spins on the tall stool, jabbing her chopsticks into the air in surprise. "Yes?!"

"I see you helped yourself to breakfast," said Watanuki with a small sigh, "But I was wondering if you could tell me how you unwittingly walked into the Sakurazukamori's territory."

Kochoushu slumps, and sets down her chopsticks. "I've always done it. That's why I call it the 'sometimes' cherry tree, because sometimes it's in my way and sometimes not... I try to avoid it, though."

Watanuki scratches his neck. "Did he scare you?"

Kochoushu nods.

"I told you that not everything you would encounter with the Sight would be pleasant, or harmless," Watanuki says grimly.

"I—I know... But I don't think this had anything to do with that. This could have happened any time before I became your apprentice. Look, he didn't  _want_  to kill me. But he could have been—could have been forced to."

"Yes." Watanuki pauses. "Kochoushu."

"What?"

"He wants to teach you things I cannot, so you won't be caught like that again."

"Ahhhh...O-oh?" Kochoushu is surprised.

"If you turn down the offer, I'll have him pay some other way. And I would like to...except, I can't teach you what you need to know. Our specialties are too different. And also..."

"What is it?"

"In this world, magic has been waning for a long time. More and more knowledge has been lost, and he is the last heir to two kinds of magic—Sumeragi and Sakurazukamori. I am sure that he wishes to preserve that knowledge if he can, before he passes." Kochoushu stares at Watanuki. "He has little care for the future, but I think he would like to leave this world with a sense of completion. He desires an end; and something must replace his immortality, however inadvertently he gained it in the first place. Something that lives beyond."

Kochoushu glances aside to think this over, and nods slowly. "Most likely."

"But it's your choice, Kochoushu. I can't hand you over to him if you don't feel safe."

"So long as he doesn't kill anyone while he's around me, I should be fine, right?" Kochoushu says, a little too lightly, and her throat closes. "There's nothing to fear."

Watanuki takes a deep breath. "You seem surprisingly okay with the idea."

"Well, Kurogane-san and Fai-san have killed people too, haven't they?" Kochoushu leans forward to hear Watanuki's answer.

"Yes. While on their journey," Watanuki says softly. "And on the battlefield."

"Is assassination so different?"

"I do not know."

"I think it's different. But the sin is the same, isn't it?" Koschoushu looks down at the floor. "Except he was forced to do it."

"But it would affect his soul, wouldn't it?" Watanuki counters.

"Aren't you supposed to be urging me to take his offer?" Watanuki shakes his head. Kochoushu looks down at the floor again. "I think he lost the will to live, once. He hasn't lost it since...not out of love for the world, but out of..." she trails off. "He doesn't take joy in much of anything. But he's still gentle, in his way. In his efficiency. He despises killing. Therefore, the act of killing has become his penance..."

"Such things exist in this world, don't they." Watanuki looked at Kochoushu sadly.

Kochoushu blinked. "Did I say something odd?"

"No, I think you sounded very wise."

"He doesn't deserve it, though," Kochoushu said vehemently. "It's not fair."

"But  _he_  thinks he does," explains Watanuki. "And that's fair enough of an exchange for a wish. The purest ones are the hardest on themselves. If they weren't, they would not deserve to be called such. I do not know what his heart has identified as his mistake, but the flaw may be inexcusable only because he regards it as such. Until he can forgive himself, it is impossible to fully repent."

"He'll die before that happens."

Watanuki nods. "Yes. In all probability."

"Can we...make it better?"

"I've never seen you so serious like this before." Watanuki rests his hands on his hips. "You don't fear death, do you?"

Kochoushu shakes her head.

Watanuki sighs again. "I suppose you've made your decision."

"I want him to teach me what I need to know," says Kochoushu, "while he still has time."

For a while, Watanuki stands there muttering to himself. Then he raises his head and says to Kochoushu, "I'll tell him that you accepted his offer. Will you serve tea for us?"

Kochoushu nods and eases off the stool. "I'll be waiting."

* * *

"She accepted?" asks the Sakurazukamori.

"Yes," says Watanuki simply, taking his seat back at the table.

"Name your terms and I will abide by them," the Sakurazukamori offers immediately—no, desperately...

Watanuki sits up straighter. "I  _could_  make my demands specific, but what they boil down to would be this: her absolute safety while in your care. Do what you think is necessary to ensure it."

"I see." The Sakurazukamori stares at the tablecloth. "If I was in your position, I doubt I would demand any less. Should I fail in my duty, you may strike me down. So: what of my wish?"

"You will lose your immortality, and all of the extra years of youth it afforded you, in exchange for the preservation of knowledge of both your magical heritages. Perhaps even your personal narrative, if you feel the spell requires it. Unlike some of my clients, you are a practitioner so I believe I can trust you with the exact details. My student will aid you in this endeavor. You will die then and there, when your task is complete. Is this the end you searched for?"

"It is sufficient," the Sakurazukamori replies. "I gladly accept the terms, and I shall return here to teach her when I can. With that, I must take my leave. I cannot put off my duty any longer. Today, the tree is hungry, and I have already received my orders." The Sakurazukamori stands.

Watanuki and Shizuka shiver.

* * *

Kochoushu comes out with the green tea the moment the Sakurazukamori left.

"You're late," Watanuki says shortly.

Kochoushu ignores him and pours the tea anyway, and seats herself in the place the Sakurazukamori vacated.

"You're okay with this?" asks Shizuka.

"Yes." Kochoushu sips her tea. When Shizuka doesn't pick up his cup, she gestures and says, "Go on. Take communion."

Shizuka glances at Watanuki, and they drink together.

Kochoushu lowers her cup slowly. "Something's changed, hasn't it? Between you two? I thought you were together at first, but then I realized you weren't...yet."

Watanuki reddens somewhat. "Changed, I...I wonder?"

To Kochoushu, he was about as obvious as a decorated Valentine's card.

"Doumeki-san told you he loves you, didn't he?" Kochoushu's eyes flicker between Watanuki and Shizuka's faces. "You seem...united."

Shizuka's eyes turn to Watanuki, watching for the slightest expression.

"...maybe." It's the smallest of admissions, for Watanuki.

"You don't have to hide it in front of me." Kochoushu sips her tea, and raises her eyebrows when they don't smile.

"Apparently not," Watanuki says slowly.

"I'm glad for you then."

"I haven't accepted him yet..."

"I see," Kochoushu says softly. She finishes her tea in one more gulp, and stands up. "Thank you for breakfast. I'll return home now."

Watanuki blinks. "What?"  _Already?_

"You two still have a lot left to work out. I shan't disturb you."

Kochoushu got up from the table, bowed, and left. The door clicked shut behind her. The room was still.

* * *

Watanuki turned slowly to meet Shizuka's eyes—their intent. "More to work out, she says." The words drop from Watanuki's numb lips.

Shizuka nods.

"I have to give you a proper answer, don't I?" Watanuki fiddles with his hair.

Shizuka shakes his head.

Watanuki leans into his side. "Why does this feel so good, I wonder?"

Shizuka's arm pulls him tight, and Watanuki clings to it. "Because this is enough."

"You were scared, today. Weren't you, Shizuka? You were tense, but you hardly said anything."

"Yes."

"Doumeki would have...Doumeki would have tried to stop him from coming in, I think. Or tried to stop me from dealing with him."

"I thought... I could have, but I..." Shizuka hesitates. "I trust you."

"Why?"

"Your domain is here, where this is your element. If am able to help you, it is only because you tell me how."

"I've made mistakes in the past." Watanuki holds up his left hand, turning it so as to look at the paralyzed pinky. "Surely you remember those." He lets his hand fall.

"My great-grandfather does," Shizuka corrects him.

"Ah."

"His memories are not as real. They can't get in the way of how I felt when I first saw you, what you've become to me in all this time we've been together. How beautiful. How graceful. How wise." Shizuka breathes deeply. "Though neither us have been wise at the things that mattered most to us. We—I realized I forgave you for that. If you couldn't see the truth then it was partly our fault for not showing you. My great-grandfather thought...I think he thought sometimes that you saw and didn't care. Only I guessed that you couldn't see at all, because we were similar, and if you had known you would have cared."

"He didn't trust me..."

"No. But you didn't, either."

Only the sound of their breath permeates the air between them.

"True," says Watanuki finally. "Not about the deeper things."

"Deeper than life-and-death..."

_Strange, isn't it?_

Silence again.

"Shizuka?"

Too much time must have passed; Watanuki's hand stray brushes Shizuka's cheek, slides thin strands of hair out of his eyes. Shizuka startles a little. "Hm?"

"Have you thought about my offer? About the connection to my eye?" Watanuki wonders aloud.

"Yes."

"Have you...have you made a decision?"

"I must decline," Shizuka says, quietly but firmly.

Watanuki blinks, somewhat surprised. "I see."

"It would be a good gift," Shizuka explains, "but I simply couldn't trust myself with it. And I want to trust  _you_ , is all," Shizuka continues. "But I would come to rely on the connection. You don't _need_  protecting the way you did when my great-grandfather was alive. You see strange things all the time. Good and often beautiful things, sometimes, but they would be frightening for me. If I took your gift, I wouldn't understand what you saw, and worry too often over nothing. Eventually, doubt would come between us."

"How...how do you figure?" Watanuki asks, somewhat confused.

"I would stifle you."

Watanuki crept to his side, and took his hand, and looked deep into his green eyes. "You aren't your great-grandfather." His hands slid up Shizuka's arms to brace his shoulders. Shizuka leaned back, trapped, eyes locked on Watanuki's.

"No," says Shizuka softly, without moving, staying perfectly still, "I'm not..."

"Are you certain that—that wasn't  _his_  mistake?" Watanuki asks softly, dropping his voice.

Shizuka struggles not to move, not to overwhelm. "No. Because I already trust you, it would be mine. And I...I love you."

After meeting that calm, solemn gaze fore even a second, Watanuki has to lower his eyes, or risk losing his composure. "Shizuka..."

"What?"

"Do—do you want to..." Watanuki gulps.

"Want to what?" Shizuka says, as gently as he can.

Watanuki turns red again and screws his eyes shut. "K-kiss," he stutters.

"Mm." Shizuka hums before making his response. "Well, only if you want to."

Watanuki feels— _something_ —twist sharply inside of him. As if this had been something he needed to hear. "O-oh, really?" he says weakly.

"Yes."

"W-what if I don't know if I want to until a-after y-you..." Watanuki stares at Shizuka. The words just kind of seep away.

"I thought we kissed before."

"That was just a, an explanation. It doesn't count... I—I mean..." Watanuki blushes even hotter, but somehow keeps talking. "That time, I was so shocked, I couldn't feel..."

"My feelings?" Shizuka is surprised.

"Y-yeah," Watanuki chokes out, while his throat tries to stick itself together.

Shizuka says slowly, "It's not the same as words..."

Watanuki chuckles nervously. "No, it's not."

"Then...you want to? Now?"

It feels like his heart is beating so hard, it could break through his chest. "Yes," says Watanuki, swallowing his fears. "Now."  _Or he'd lose his nerve to ask..._

Shizuka pushes Watanuki back a little, gets out of his chair, and kneels on the floor in front of Watanuki, who is still seated.

For an instant, Watanuki can't comprehend it: but then the sick feeling of horror dawns and tears began to flow down his face. Seeing him like that—lower than him—Watanuki's heart twinges painfully, and in a desperate effort to quell it he throws himself out of the chair, and wraps his arms around Shizuka, with a dry sob. His whole body shakes with the force of his sudden panic.

Shizuka murmurs, "What is it?"

Watanuki's arms tighten around his neck. "Kneeling...that is...you can never kneel to me..." his words are muffled. "I forbid it..."

O _h..._ thinks Shizuka, as realization sinks in, and his world changes, and as a result of the shift, refocuses with greater clarity.

Shizuka rocks and holds Watanuki until he quiets. "Then I won't," he promises, and Watanuki eases back a little, to look at him. Searching for sincerity... Finally he seems to have found it. "Ready?" asks Shizuka, very softly.

Watanuki nods.

Shizuka's lips were soft, simply touching. He kissed lightly at first, then deeper, more firmly, until Watanuki opened his lips and Shizuka molded his mouth with his. It was sweet, but not hungry. Shizuka made the experience a gentle pleasure...and Watanuki kept following, and not pulling away, until a warmth grew in their bodies.

Finally they break apart, simply to breathe in gently while they still have air left.

After a moment, Watanuki leans back in.

"Again?" asks Shizuka.

He nods.

This time the kiss went deeper, quicker; ever so lightly, Watanuki kisses back, until Shizuka creates an opening, and thrust inside to explore—

With a gasp, Watanuki hits the floor, startling them both.

"Was that—bad?" asks Shizuka, leaning over Watanuki a little with hands flat on the floor for support, breathlessly.

"Uh," Watanuki mumbles confusedly. "No, no, I just...my body can't..."

Shizuka decides to give him some time to recover, and lies beside him to wait, but is soon distracted. He smooths down Watanuki's hair; Watanuki shivers and curls where Shizuka strokes him, however chastely and slowly—tracing the line of his jaw, down his neck, along his side, bumping against his collar...

"Shizuka, st _op_!" Watanuki gasps, and ineffectually tries to push him away; when that doesn't work, having failed to get some space, he rolls over. "I—I'll burn—" His face flushes.

Shizuka sighs, but kisses Watanuki's forehead first, pushes himself back, and sits up.

Watanuki tries to sit up, too, but promptly gets dizzy, which turns out to be the last straw. Feeling once again like a weak nineteen-year-old idiot, Watanuki bursts into tears. But unlike then, he doesn't protest when Shizuka carries him to bed and brings him some sugar water.

"What was it like?" asks Shizuka.

Watanuki's hand creeps out from under the sheets. Shizuka grasps his hand. "Like pure kindness," Watanuki whispers. "Shizuka, you taste like sun and kindness..."

Shizuka squeezes Watanuki's hand. "Please, let us grow old together."

"Yes," says Watanuki, closing his eyes, "A thousand times yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked this surprise visit from Subaru Sumeragi.
> 
> I thought I was going to make Watanuki teach Kochoushu. Nope, not happening. (Yet.) Sheesh... Watanuki's specialty really is limited. Careful planning is more his style though, and also the style Kochoushu learns best by: careful study and lesson planning. Watanuki just learned as he went, and although it was successful in his case albeit dangerous, he is not inclined to subject his student to the whims of the world as Yuuko was.
> 
> I hope you learned a little more about who Kochoushu and Shizuka are in relation to their past-counterparts.
> 
> Oh. And, uh. Congratulations Watanuki and Shizuka! They have kissed—twice for real, once for explanation! Shizuka practically proposed! (Actually he did that ages and ages ago, sort of. But he just repeated the offer.) I wasn't expecting this stage to go so quickly...
> 
> You're probably wondering why Watanuki's so weak. (Again.) That's because...all his senses are overly strong, and they tend to overwhelm him, especially when he feels under pressure. And he's especially sensitive to touch, even as he seeks it out, since he gets so little of it. So while Shizuka's attentions are very pleasant they are also extremely intense. Also! Condition compounded by high blood pressure / low-level morning blood sugar levels. Just because. :-P Watanuki needs to slowly build up stamina in a lot of areas. The fact that he can't keep up doesn't matter that much to Shizuka though. He just wants to see Watanuki happy.


	10. Assessment Lessons

Kochoushu skips in the next day just as Shizuka is leaving for work. She passes him at the gate, chuckling.

"Well? How was it?" she asks Watanuki, guessing he will turn funny colors.

As expected, Watanuki reddens. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Kochoushu snickers. Watanuki folds his arms and clears his throat. "Setting that aside, you need to meet with your new teacher."

"So do you have something to teach me before then?" Kochoushu bobs a curtsy.

Watanuki gives her the side-eye, and Kochoushu subsides. "Yes, I do have something to teach you. Go wait out on the porch, I have to fetch something from that finicky storeroom."

Kochoushu skips onto the porch and kicks her feet over the side until Watanuki comes back.

"There are some lessons the Sakurazukamori should expect you to already know," says Watanuki. "So I want to prepare you. First, the most basic type of divination. Second, your sigil. Third..." He gazes at her; his fingers ghost over the lid of the box at his side. "...I haven't decided yet."

Kochoushu tucks her bangs behind her ear. "All right."

"I want you to close your eyes and listen. Then tell me the first thing that sticks out to you among all the rest of the noises. Something that seems significant. Sit or stand still, the most important thing is to meditate."

"Sounds easy. But how will I know that what I get is significant?"

"I  _said_  it was basic," Watanuki tells her. "The basics are often more useful than you might imagine. As for how we know what is significant: we ask a question first. And then we accept the answer that comes."

Kochoushu wrinkles her nose.

"Just try it," Watanuki encourages her. " _Hitsuzen_ is the idea that all things come about for a reason, as a result of what has happened in the past—affecting all choices and intentions—and that this moment is inevitable as the culmination of all those things. Thus nothing occurs by chance. What magic can do is to manipulate  _hitsuzen_  to some degree in order to interpret it, to trace a strand of reality back to its origins, for instance, or implant an idea in the supernatural realm that will guide reality towards a reflective response."

"But we're just listening and asking. Nothing will hear us," Kochoushu objects.

"Because we are performing a kind of divination, the effect of that action is to garner insight. The goal is  _not_  to change the future of the world, but to hold a mirror to the future upon which the present has currently set its course. We ask a question. The response is usually metaphorical or open to interpretation, but valid. All that is required is that you trust that all the elements that are present today are here for a reason, and part of that reason is to inform your divination."

Kochoushu thinks about this. "So you don't ask yes-no questions, when you do this."

"No. Open-ended ones, yes. Should I provide an example?" asks Watanuki.

Kochoushu nods.

"In my first divination, I was not listening for any reason in particular — so the result could have been anything — I listened and heard of a person who was important to me, though I didn't know it at the time. The second time I used the technique, I wanted to select my sigil. I heard the chirp of a bird, and it so happened that some very dear guests had appeared with one."

"Huh." Kochoushu looks thoughtful.

"I would suggest that you also try listening for your sigil," Watanuki prompts her.

Kochoushu nods again, frowning. "I just ask the question, close my eyes, and listen?"

"Yes."

"For however long until I get my answer?"

"Yes."

"This is going to take forever," Kochoushu complains, and draws her long legs back up onto the porch so she can sit crosslegged. Kochoushu catches Watanuki speculative look and sweeps back her hair. "Well? Are you going to stare at me the whole time?"

"No, of course not," says Watanuki, smiling faintly. "Are you ready?" He turns to leave.

" _I'm_  fine, so leave already! I'll call you when I'm done!"

"That's it, then. Do your best." Watanuki slides open the porch door and re-enters the shop.

Kochoushu sighs and centers herself, then closes her eyes.  _What is the form my sigil should take?..._

A breeze goes by.

In her mind she attaches herself to it, and attunes.

Watanuki's garden remains expectant and still.

* * *

After waiting fifteen minutes leaning against the doorpost, Watanuki gives it up. If it has taken her this long, Kochoushu won't be done anytime soon. For all her complaints, she is tenacious. Just like her predecessor.

Having forecast the general outlines of the future that morning, Watanuki knows there won't be customers for a few more hours. Watanuki disappears into the kitchen to prepare—meals, snacks, seasonal foods. He never knows when he will need them for barter. And besides, Kochoushu would surely be hungry when she was finished.

He finishes putting the first batch of pastries in the oven and leaves the kitchen to check in on Kochoushu. Somehow, though it has been almost an hour, she's still awake.

Watanuki feels a tiny bit jealous. He supposes he has always been lucky to get answers to his divinations fairly quickly—he seems to have some skill with them—but whenever the answer doesn't come easily for some reason, he struggles not to fall asleep. Time that had been standing still passes almost too quickly while he dreams, although in the dreaming state he is usually able to get the task done. That Kochoushu hasn't succumbed yet seems to indicate that she has a very disciplined mind already.

...So Watanuki checks in another half an hour later. She's still awake.

Watanuki receives his first customer and loses himself in the role of the Shopkeeper: courteous, fair and distant, unflappable. The customer is unusually cautious and quickly gains Watanuki's genuine respect. It takes almost an hour to work out the details and let the customer describe what he wants, but finally Watanuki grants his first wish of the day. When he is done, Watanuki allows himself to be pleased and satisfied with the result; this trade is one of the rare few that will pan out auspiciously. It is nice to see.

The customer bows and leaves. Watanuki realizes that in the midst of his Shopkeeper duties he forgot entirely about Kochoushu and he rushes back out to the porch. He is too hasty and the sliding door judders loudly.

"I thought I told you not to disturb me," Kochoushu mumbles into her arms which are wrapped around her knees. Her brow is perfectly smooth, but her tone is frustrated.

"That may be so, but as your teacher, I think it is time to take a short break," Watanuki tells her calmly. "You did very well. Let's regroup. Perhaps if we try something else, it will work better. Besides, I'm sure you're getting hungry..."

Kochoushu huffs a little, but she gets up to follow Watanuki into the kitchen. Of course, all is forgiven once she has a cup of Watanuki's warm, gold-sweet coffee with a few of Watanuki's pastries. She even squeals over those.

Watanuki makes a mental note that Kochoushu prefers coffee to tea and chuckles to himself.  _Kids these days._  Then he laughs at himself for thinking such a thing. He's not supposed to be that old. He casts his mind back. Yuuko's favorite drink was...but of course, he's not letting her anywhere  _near_  the saké. Not for a million years. He will not be responsible for the consequences.

Finally he returns to the task at hand. "So tell me what your experience with the divination was like, Kochoushu."

She shrugs. "Nothing stood out to me. So I just waited."

"Hm. Ideally, this type of divination should be the most quick," Watanuki comments, resting his chin on his hand and leaning on the table. "Half an hour, at most. Ten minutes on average."

"Why didn't you stop me?" said Kochoushu, outraged.

"There was always a chance you were simply going slow." Watanuki shrugs. "And you seemed determined."

Kochoushu scowls.

"I won't let you do it next time," Watanuki promises. "I just wanted to see how you would do, and then you were doing so well, I didn't want to stop you. I reckoned it was a good opportunity to get some idea of your limits. But honestly, I'm not some kind of Zen master, and you shouldn't need to work that hard. Understand?"

Kochoushu shrugs again, skeptically.

"You'll see. What else can you describe?"

"A lot of breeze? Maybe butterflies?" Kochoushu cocked her head. "It didn't feel right. That wasn't the answer. Maybe it was there, but I couldn't perceive it without my sight."

Well...huh. Maybe there was some kind of interference. Or perhaps she needed a different kind of input.

"Perhaps listening isn't telling you what you need to know," Watanuki says slowly. "You should try open up each of your senses in turn. Yes. Taste, smell, touch, sight, and hearing, and...balance. If you can concentrate with your eyes open, then use your eyes. Think about what is there, and also what is  _not_."

Kochoushu blinks.  _Balance?_ _  
_

"Try that for up to half an hour and come back to me. Let the answer grow in your mind until it manifests. I never said it had to come all at once, and it very well might come from inside rather than outside, although that is how it is traditionally done." Watanuki nods to himself. "Try that. Internalize the world around you."

Thinking back over his words, he became more and more certain. Most mages needed to learn how to let the world  _in,_ or to keep it  _out._  But Kochoushu wasn't just any mage; she was sure to become the Dimensional Witch. She needed different handling. She would fully comprehend the whole, encompass her sense of place...which made more sense. To add in what was missing or what was  _out_  of place, rather than what was present, would tell her most.

* * *

"The bees," says Kochoushu shortly, without preamble, sliding open the screen door and walking straight into the meeting between Watanuki and his customer.

"The bees?" Watanuki asks, with keen interest, after sparing a glance at his customer, who was staring at them both open-mouthed.

"Yes. There are birds and butterflies, but there aren't any honeybees in the garden!"

_Oh._

So he had been right. "If you would excuse me for a moment?" Watanuki says to the customer, a patient older man with humorous crows feet at the corners of his eyes, and then Watanuki stands and steps back from the bargaining table. "My student requires my attention. We were actually in the middle of lessons when you called..."

"No, not a problem at all," says the customer, smiling patiently, and Watanuki and Kochoushu withdraw to the next room.

"Show me!" Watanuki commands her, so Kochoushu seizes his wrist and drags him to the porch. "Look!" she says, pointing.

"No bees?"

"It's a complete garden, except... How does your garden even get pollinated, Watanuki? I checked and looked back in time and I couldn't find them. Ever! Any of them! Anywhere! Anytime, they were just...gone!"

"I imagine it's the...butterflies," Watanuki says faintly. "Pollinating."

"Not really. But the bees! They were missing!"

"You looked back in time?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's what I do when I mediate," Kochoushu says impatiently.

Watanuki raises his eyebrows. "You didn't tell me earlier."

"Didn't I?" Kochoushu is surprised. She stares at him.

Perhaps it is just so obvious to her that she doesn't realize... Watanuki folds his arms and tucks his hands inside the opposite sleeves. "Maybe you forgot."

Kochoushu shrugs.

Watanuki looks out at the garden again. "Well, it makes more sense now that you've successfully done the divination, I suppose." No wonder she had taken such a long time to meditate the first time, and was cranky when he knocked her out of it. Her method is complicated, but it seems to work. It could be streamlined, however. That's something to work on.

"Your sigil is the bee," Watanuki tries again.

Kochoushu nods, and adds quickly, "Or the wasp!"

"Which do you prefer?" he asks.

Kochoushu bites her lip.

"It could be both," he quickly reassures her. "Keep thinking about the form you want it to take. The divination only takes you to the starting point. It's entirely up to you. Your choice of sigil doesn't have to be entirely real or imaginary." Watanuki jerks his head back to the bargaining room. "Do you want to help me while I'm working?"

" _Yes_!"

"Good. Come and keep watch."

"That's all?"

"And pay attention."

"Oh..." she tries not to look crestfallen.

"If you weren't meant to play a part, you wouldn't have barged in while I was in the middle of bargaining," says Watanuki wryly. "So do what you feel like. Goodness knows I did that as an apprentice. Be impertinent. Ask questions."

Once again, Kochoushu grins.

* * *

Once the customer has left, Watanuki groans and stretches and looks to the clock. "It's already late. We need to get ready; the Sakurazukamori will arrive here soon."

"How do you know?" Kochoushu asks.

"He called last night," Watanuki says, amused. "There are no secrets about the myriad uses of telephones among magic-users, you know." When Kochoushu keeps giving him a confounded look, he quickly musses her hair. "It's nothing mysterious. Your elders are just colluding," he chuckles. "You'll understand when you're our age."

"Oh," Kochoushu says, embarrassed, and ducks out from under his hand. "You're not that old," she mumbles.

Watanuki takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Sometimes he forgets she doesn't know. He puts the glasses back on.

"Are you all right?" She squints at him in concern.

He makes the effort to smile at her tiredly. "Just fine."  _With only a hundred years of difference between my age in years and my appearance in life..._

"Okay, then," she says quietly. But he seems suddenly strange and far away...

"I don't think we have time to make more progress, so we will have to leave the rest of the lessons I planned for another time," says Watanuki. "But if he asks you if you can do anything with a  _shikigami,_ just tell him you haven't created a vessel for it yet. He might want to lead you through that. Which is why I wanted to get this lesson out of the way." _  
_

"Why did you get the box out?" Kochoushu asks, a little breathlessly. She needs to keep his attention.

"Still haven't decided. I might not even use it," Watanuki replies, and makes to leave, but Kochoushu gulps and snatches his sleeve. "What is it?" Watanuki asks, very gentle.

Kochoushu turns her vaguely unhappy face away from him and shifts from foot to foot. "Hey, Watanuki," she says in her softest voice, "Have you ever...do you ever get the feeling that...that still waters run deep, that some things that you  _know_  have been hidden from you, or that something that has happened before, but you can't remember it? But that...that you aren't acting like yourself as you would if you were encountering something for the first time." She stops, swallowing the rest of her words.

"Kochoushu." Watanuki crouches to stare straight into her eyes. "I promise you, there is nothing wrong with feeling that way."

Her cheeks flame with heat as she breaks eye contact. "I didn't mean it—not like—I'm not  _ashamed_ —"

"No. It's true. There's nothing wrong at all. You need to know that." He watches her expressions carefully. "There are things in your past that are beyond your control. There are memories of the body, the soul, and the spirit. And occasionally, they are passed down through more than one generation."

"Then...an ancestor, you mean?" Kochoushu asks, confused, searching his eyes.

Watanuki shakes his head. "Not necessarily. It doesn't matter."  _I'm not sure about the specifics for you._ _  
_

"Do—do you know—?" _About me? About what this feels like?_

The shopkeeper pulls himself up to stand at full height. "I do." Watanuki looks at his hands. "I...because of my past, at some point, I became unable to remember specifics about my childhood. Such as learning to cook. The memory is still a part of me. But I don't remember." Watanuki flexes his hands. "When I cook, in a strange way, I feel that can come just a little closer to what I lost."

"Is that why you love to cook?"

"I..." Watanuki starts. "I, yes. That's why I feel like I  _must_  do it. But what I love about it is different; perhaps I know too much, maybe, or the process is routine to me, completely matter-of-fact. I'm not sure. What I learned to love about cooking is seeing the smiling faces of the people who eat...hearing them talk together...and I only had the opportunity once I made friends.  _That_ 's what makes me happy."

"' _Must_ ,'" Kochoushu repeats, mumbling to herself. "Huh."

"Shizuka knows a little about that kind of feeling, too. There's something funny about his family line, maybe even something caused by his family traditions. But you would have to ask him for the details."

Kochoushu nods mutely.

"Was it something about the lesson today?" Watanuki asks her kindly. "What made you wonder all of a sudden?"

Kochoushu turns away, scratching the back of her neck. "Yeah. It was the lesson, sort of. Although I've been doing it all my life, I just..." She shrugs.

"Wanted to ask," Watanuki supplies.

Kochoushu sighs, resetting the hang of her shoulders. "Yeah." Now she doesn't feel like asking the other question. The one about whether she knows Watanuki...or if he once knew someone else like her. It doesn't make sense, for her to want to ask him, because Watanuki is young, but in the back of her mind, the longer they have interacted, the stronger something insists that they were once connected. Nothing makes sense, she just knows what she feels.

"You can ask anytime." Watanuki smiles at her.

Kochoushu wishes she had the courage to be more open, to get everything out of the way, right away.

Before she can reply, they hear the slide of a screen door open. The Sakurazukamori has arrived.

Watanuki exhales. "Ready?" She nods. "Stay strong," Watanuki tells her, and tows her to the door, and smoothly greets the assassin: "Well met, Sakurazukamori."

The Sakurazukamori bows slightly. "Shopkeeper. I have intruded.  _Ojamashimasu_."

"You're very welcome. You came to pick up Kochoushu?"

The Sakurazukamori nods, and says to them both, "We'll just be going for a walk together. At the moment, I would just like us to talk."

Watanuki raises his eyebrows. "I see. We should compare notes sometime."

"If you believe it would be beneficial, certainly. Well then, Kochoushu?"

Kochoushu crosses the threshhold, puts on her shoes, and straightens, ready to go, looking back at Watanuki.

The Sakurazukamori promises, "We'll be back soon, Shopkeeper."

* * *

Once they are outside the gates of the wishing shop, the Sakurazukamori stops and turns to face Kochoushu. "I hope you won't be shy with me," the Sakurazukamori says. Now that he is in the daylight, Kochoushu can see that he has beautiful dark eyes and a thin, lanky frame disguised by his great dark coat. "We have a lot to cover. But first, I would like to reintroduce myself. We met in somewhat trying circumstances." He coughs once into black-gloved hands.

Kochoushu makes a confused sound.

The Sakurazukamori holds out his hand and smiles faintly. "Nice to meet you. My name is Subaru Sumeragi. I am a former  _onmyouji_  and current assassin known as the Sakurazukamori. Perhaps you know of the legend."

Kochoushu shakes his hand, shakes her head.

"No? Then I must tell you of the oral tradition of our history a while later, Kochoushu-san."

"It must have been...hard," Kochoushu croaks.

"The transition almost killed me." Subaru Sumeragi's mild smile slips away. A graveness replaces it. "Or it would have, if I hadn't already been thoroughly broken. I could have resisted my fate, but then I would have died, and for reasons I can't even explain completely to myself I...chose not to. I continue to exist."

Kochoushu doesn't know what to say. "What should I call you?" she wonders instead, with a sinking feeling that the answer to that question is going to be more difficult than intended.

"Subaru," he replies at last. "I should have told you earlier. Just Subaru. Sakurazukamori is my title, hardly a name, and after all that has happened, I am utterly unworthy to be addressed as a proper Sumeragi."

He  _is_  being difficult without meaning to. "Subaru- _sensei_?" Kochoushu asks uncertainly.

He shrugs indifferently. "I wouldn't want to usurp Watanuki-sama of his privilege. You need not worry about offending me."

"Subaru... _san_?" she tries tentatively, and it feels wrong. "Subaru- _sama_?" Even worse. A twinge in Subaru's face tells her it's not right.

"If you wish. It doesn't matter to me," Subaru says.

She ignores him. Every option is inadequate, but Kochoushu will go with the middle ground. "Okay. Subaru-san. What will we be doing today?"

Subaru points to the street. "Walking the city."

"Yeah, but—"

"You'll be my eyes to the past. I want to get some idea of what you can see."

"Like ghosts and spirits and so on?"

"That's included, yes."

"I thought you wanted to train me," Kochoushu objects.

"Assessment comes first. I need some knowledge of your abilities so that I can design and construct wards to hold against you." Subaru sighs. "You realize, I could have killed you yesterday."

"Yes?" is all she says.

Subaru shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter. You have something to teach me. Just tell me some place and I'll deconstruct what I see for you," Kochoushu tells him impatiently.

Subaru scans the road and points.

Kochoushu follows his direction and  _looks_ : an ordinary establishment, a grey business type building with an elevator at the bottom and a couple floors. Countless businessmen. Before, an ordinary house painted with pale cream and dark blue edging like an off-white china plate. One family lived there, moved in with their kids roughly twenty years before, and had left when their children went before them. Before that, the same house with brown trim instead, and an elderly couple that had always stayed there. The grandfather was taken away by ambulance. The grandmother died in the house, but had peacefully ascended, leaving no ghost.

Kochoushu relays this to Subaru, and Subaru nods and asks about how far back she could see, and they walk on. The next time, Subaru asks about a group of elderly people (she can't make out very much, just their younger faces—clothes and fashions blur too much); an old, knotted tree (she watches its growth backwards); a rusted car (paint, chips, accidents, this and that family); a small shrine. They also look at different landscapes and buildings about few more times, one of which is haunted, before Subaru feels has enough information to make his own conclusions.

At that point, Subaru sets them both back on the path to return to the wishing shop and begins fiddling with his fingers, and thinking aloud.

"You can look into the past. What about the future?"

"Rarely. A few hours ahead, at most. Too many things are changing."

"That's as may be... But you saw the faces of the elderly couples as they were, younger, yes?"

Kochoushu nods.

"That tells me your abilities are not strictly connected to space and time. Perhaps by force of habit... But those people were moving. They did not stand still. You shouldn't have been able to see any of their past at all, if space limited you."

"Is it—is it a kind of ley line?" Kochoushu pushes the tips of her fingers together.

Subaru looks surprised. "Do you visualize it like that?"

"I'm—I'm not quite sure," Kochoushu answers. "If I have to push for a history, though, there's usually a sort of 'channel' that is easier for me to follow, usually connected with living things; I can follow them backwards or forwards until they are born or they die, or I meet the present time, when they are still making decisions. And at the present, their choices splay out in front of them, like a thousand echoes, reappearing or disappearing as I wait. But it has to be a continuous connection, and when I follow a person, I lose their relationship to the world around them."

Subaru looks thoughtful. "Ah. So that's where the overlap with the Shopkeeper's abilities begins."

"Er, what? Why does that matter?" Kochoushu asks.

"Well, I had been wondering why he decided to take on an apprentice, especially one that appeared to have nothing in common with his specialty area and without ancestry of particular note. That happens very rarely. And you must understand that Watanuki Kimihiro has maintained a reputation for the most powerful dreamseer in Japan since the deaths of Princess Hinoto and her sister Kanoe. Watanuki henceforth took over his predecessor's duties to the inter-world dream network of seers on behalf of the Earth. If Watanuki Kimihiro has the time to train anyone, he must choose a person suitable to take his place. His position demands it."

Kochoushu blinks. She had no idea her teacher was that important.

"Watanuki's abilities are most powerful in the realm of illusion, truth-seeing, mindscape, and information gathering. His methods are the least concrete of all the disciplines—the techniques of balance, often based on careful interpretation of value in barter, and psychic connection, which is notoriously unstable. Partly because of that, he has been able to work from the wishing shop without physically venturing outside, and his powers and skills grew to accommodate the limitation. I will probably never know why exactly he chose to embrace it, but it must have been out of some necessity. From what I hear of his youth, he came from a good bloodline—one that has been wiped out—but he was never particularly ambitious and he was rumored to display no particular aptitude as a psychic. This tells me he did not choose that road for its compatibility with his spirit or a wish to pursue the profession; he had other reasons, and that was the side-effect. Not that the past matters anymore." Subaru hesitates. "The reason this gives me pause is that you would be unable to fully operate with that restriction, and would probably have difficulty with skills that come naturally to him. Mentors do not typically take on apprentices with that much mismatch. Not that it's bad, per se, just unusual."

"Then what does that mean for...?"

Subaru shakes his head. "I'm rambling. Do nothing. You shouldn't worry about the quality of your education. You have an instinctive grasp of 'fate-lines,' possibly also 'psychic traces,' which allow you to transcend both space and time—that's the grounding of your skills. Watanuki  _will_  be able to teach you to expand that ability because he has some awareness of it, probably by supplementing it with dreaming techniques. When you're done with your training, you'll actually come out knowing a lot more than the usual student, although it may take longer... My point is, you have enough overlap to explain the interest, and to assure me that the connection will be academically beneficial to you both."  _It also explains the history. It wasn't only Watanuki's choice of apprentice that made little sense, but Yuuko Ichihara's choice of Watanuki as well. That Kochoushu is Yuuko Ichihara's reincarnation explains much._  Subaru wonders if he should keep an eye on the situation. Something isn't right there. Something went very wrong very far in the past.

Subaru clears his throat, and continues more grimly, "It also tells me what areas he needs me to teach you, and what you are likely to know without even trying. Also, how to keep you from stumbling on me while I am on assassin business. I understand your difficulty now."

"Huh?"

"You said you had to remember the way  _not_  to find the Sakura rather than the other way around," Subaru explains. "Murder always leaves a hefty psychic spoor around it. It's not surprising that you would be sucked into finding it, then had to learn how to avoid the trail. I should have thought of that years ago, and you took the risk all this time."

Kochoushu shrugs. "It was pretty clear it wasn't a place I was meant to be the first time I found the Blood Sakura."

Subaru says, with feeling, "You were lucky."

"Well, now you know. And I should have been more careful the day we met, but here we are." Kochoushu shrugs. "So what do you do when you're not the Sakurazukamori?"

"You misunderstand. The Sakurazukamori never leaves me." Subaru closes his eyes. "At the same time... Somehow, I'm still a Sumeragi. So I do their business, too, when I can. Not as frequently anymore since I became the entity they were born to be oppose. The Sumeragi clan used to audit all the other magical clans and families in the country and impose and enforce standards of behavior. I suppose they still do, but since I became a blood traitor I am no longer privy to that process. Which partly explains why I was curious about the nature of your apprenticeship, in fact—I apologize."

"Why are you apologizing?" Kochoushu asks.

"Oh— Sharing my many mistaken suspicions and allegations," Subaru replies, tired. "I should have been more careful, but I haven't talked to anyone in such a long time. It doesn't matter."

"What is it like to be both at once? Sumeragi and Sakurazukamori?"

Subaru rubs his forehead. "Like being pulled in two. Normally, the Sumeragi head and the Sakurazukamori would fight for the outcome of that decision. But now, it's...left to my judgment. But I've never—the balance should never have been left to someone like me."

"Why?"

Subaru stalls blankly for a moment. "Because it's a choice that no mortal should ever have to make. Life or death. Afterlife or obliteration. Truth or lies." Subaru glances at her. "In the past, partly out of their upbringing, every new generation of Sakurazukamori became more amoral and scorned the study of good and evil. Truth be told, the Sumeragi have never been too concerned about the justice or mercy in exorcising the spirits of the dead. We don't kill, so we assume we must always have the higher moral ground, and I have come to realize that's not the whole truth, either. There's comfort in being certain that choosing your side will always bring about the right course. But if I consistently chose Sumeragi values though I live as a Sakurazukamori, I would die. I  _have_  to think about the outcome of each exorcism, each killing, about to whom I show more kindness and why, whose and what sort of justice I dispense. That much consideration can never be wrested from me unless I deliberately let it go, for I have too much empathy for suffering to leave my decisions up to chance. But in the back of the mind I am always conscious of that damned tree, and feeding it just enough that it sleeps and I do not fall fully under its control. And yet I can never be forgiven for the ethical decisions I have been driven to make."

"Have you ever been controlled by the Sakura?"

Subaru grimaces. "Yes. I've made that mistake.  _That's_  the worst of all. I pray I never make it again." He folds his arms and shivers, looking slightly ill.

"Do you remember? What that felt like?"

Subaru shoots her a pained look. "Of course, sometimes. I would prefer if I didn't. Stop asking questions."

So Kochoushu stops. "So what you're saying is, the balance wasn't made for any single person to uphold, let alone someone with sympathies towards one side over the other. It should be a good thing that you, the light side, are in control, isn't it? And yet all this time, for the sake of the many, you've been dying on the inside and beating yourself up over it."

"No." Subaru sighs. "The  _balance_ , which is manifested in and driven by the conflict over the hunger of a single blood tree, shouldn't have existed in the first place. It is a self-perpetuating source of corruption, pain, and horror for Japan and a drain on its collective psyche and its resources. Without the so-called balance, the country would find its own way, a way that doesn't wholly or partially rely on spirits of shadow and darkness as it did more than a thousand years ago. Whether Sumeragi or Sakurazukamori—at times, both clans left scars worse than the things we excised. I don't want to go back to the way things were. I just want to abolish the trap I was born into perpetuating and participating in."

"So that is your last and only wish."

"Yes. Only then can I rest."


	11. Constructs

**| Chapter 11 |**

Maybe he should get some work done, while he can. Shizuka crawls to his desk and checks his email.

_Golden Week Summer Reunion is taking place at the Katsuura Onsen, you know, the one by the ocean that we talked about? We made the reservations several years ago. Shizuka, I know you haven't probably paid attention, but since your cousins backed out on the reservation, there is still room at the ryokan. I know this is last minute, but if you have anyone you would like to bring anyone, would you let Grandmother know? It seems a waste not to share the space. We shan't bother your friends, if you wish, but you must come! Everyone wonders how you are doing. —Mother_

Shizuka stares at it for a while. Come to think of it, Shirahama is fairly close to the coast, and on the warm side of the ocean. It wouldn't be a bad idea to invite Watanuki to come, if it would entice him out of the shop... He falls asleep at his desk...

* * *

His dream, his memories: not his, but Doumeki's. Shizuka's eyes fly open, trying to sort himself from his great-grandfather and make sense of this reality, this collage of conflicting sensations and the images before he can focus on the futon and the floor and the wall in front of him. This is what is real, and solid. Rolling over, Shizuka tries to take stock, squirming out of the blankets and pushing himself to his knees. He presses his hands to his temples.

For now Doumeki is settled in the back of Shizuka's mind, curled up and brooding. Doumeki usually tried not to let his moods color Shizuka's, but sometimes nothing can be done to stave it off. It had been a long time since Doumeki's dreams have slopped over into Shizuka's consciousness. Shizuka feels the slow build of a headache gathering in his skull, which happens whenever Doumeki is trying hard to figure something out; sometimes it was hard to know what had awakened him.

Shizuka tries to remember. It was a dream of an ocean, and a beach, and a younger Watanuki. There was a girl with a cute smile and long coiled hair. He felt he had known her completely in the dream he had shared with Doumeki, but now, even as he wracked his brains, he only knew from a photograph. Shizuka remembered discovering the photograph; it was one of the few artifacts he took to Watanuki, because the photograph had been sealed with a special charm, which had broken. Watanuki had said it was for neutralizing bad luck. Shizuka had let Watanuki keep the photograph... He hadn't said so at the time, but he remembered the way Watanuki's eyes had shuttered when he saw it: he must have known who she was.

Yet while the girl's presence was a curiosity to him, Doumeki had not spared her much thought at all. His thoughts had churned with regrets and unanswered questions. There had been a bet. Watanuki had been unable for some reason to go into the ocean, Shizuka knew that... And Doumeki had strongly wanted him to go, but for some reason...

But it was futile. Now matter how Shizuka strained, he couldn't fully recall the richness of the dreamed memory. It belonged to Doumeki. But even now, Shizuka felt Doumeki's feelings seeping through their connection, and the pressure of his thoughts wasn't disappearing. This was unusual enough that Shizuka began to worry.

He supposes he was lucky this had happened now, on a weekend. Sparing only brief glances at the clock, Shizuka numbly goes through his morning routine. He leaves his apartment and gets on the train. He stands, clutching the swaying handle the whole way although there are seats available (if he sits, his head may be too painful to stand again), until he arrives at the right station. The morning is muggy, but cool; it feels like a small raincloud has coalesced around him. Shizuka leaves the station and catches sight of Kochoushu and the Sakurazuka squatting to draw with chalk at a local park. Kochoushu is squabbling about something, and the Sakurazuka is amused. They are debating about something or other by pointing at sides and signs on a chalk diagram. They don't see him. Shizuka keeps walking until he finds the wishing shop. It is always there, even when he almost can't believe that it would be.

He enters. The gate squeals at the hinges and the door gets stuck as he slides it open, which annoys him. Watanuki comes into view with a yawned "good morning" covered by the back of his hand.

Shizuka scrapes off his shoes and comes forward. Watanuki switches expressions with flashes of alarm and concern, he reaches out with one hand—Shizuka takes it and Watanuki somehow understands, folding himself into Shizuka's chest. For a while Shizuka just stands there, and then he sighs and relaxes the tiniest bit.

"Better?" asks Watanuki, tilting his head so that the word is not muffled in Shizuka's jacket. His breath tickles Shizuka's ear.

"Mm."

Watanuki rests his forehead on Shizuka's shoulder. "As usual, I can't tell whether your mumbling means a yes or no."

"Mm."

"I have hot tea; I was just making strong green tea." Watanuki breathes in and whooshes out; the warm air curls against Shizuka's chest. Watanuki pulls back a little and rubs his hands over the dull leather jacket covering Shizuka's arms, and says insistently, "Talk to me over tea."

"Okay."

Watanuki pulls Shizuka into the living room, hangs up his jacket, and seats him at the table. Picking up the tea kettle, he pours the hot tea, pushing a steaming cup into Shizuka's limp hands. Shizuka sniffs, and breathes deep. He sneezes.

Watanuki startles. "Oh! I'm sorry," says Watanuki. "Are you cold? Should I fetch a blanket?" He gets up and fusses some more before Shizuka convinces him to sit down again.

"You're being kind today," Shizuka mumbles into his cup.

Watanuki frowns. Why shouldn't be be kind? Was he being kinder than usual? Did Shizuka think Watanuki would be so insensitive as to rant or rag at a person who wasn't up to it? Even with a Doumeki or a Yuuko, who never seemed fazed by anything, there had to be a time for mercy. At least he thought there had been. Maybe he had missed those moments. But he never meant to cause actual  _hurt_. It was perfectly clear to him now that this was not the time for teasing of any kind, let alone a string of false complaints...he couldn't think why it wouldn't have occurred to him in the past. But perhaps there hadn't.

It was disconcerting to contemplate that maybe he had changed, without realizing it, and for the better all unaware.

"Well, you seem  _down_  today. In a Doumeki way," Watanuki responds, wrinkling his nose. "Do you even realize you're carrying a raincloud around with you? It's giving  _me_  a headache."

Shizuka sort of laughs. "Ha. I guess so. Is it that damp?"

"Quite." Watanuki rolls his eyes. "Are you  _sure_  you don't want a blanket? You're usually a furnace, but you've got goosebumps on your arms, look..." he rubs his fingers over Shizuka's skin. Shizuka shivers. "Oh, come here," Watanuki exclaims, and hugs him again. "I'm sorry." Shizuka's not sure what he's apologizing for. "Because you seem upset," Watanuki sighs.

"Doumeki woke up today." Shizuka closes his eyes as Watanuki rubs warm circles into his back. "He has some vivid memories. Usually he just tells me about them when they're relevant, but sometimes they slip through, and I dream them with him. Although he hasn't told me anything about these. I think he's the one that's upset."

"About us?"

"No." Shizuka's shoulders tense. "No, as far as I know he's happy about  _that_... No, it's mostly at himself."

"I'm sorry," Watanuki says, once more. His hands move to loosen new tense spots.

"Don't be. He's trying to change." Shizuka winces and rubs his temples. "It's just...it's painful right now. Thinking...thinking too hard." It really hurts.

"This is no good." Watanuki frowns.

"It's all right, really." Shizuka settles back. Watanuki keeps kneading his shoulders.

"Do you still have that picture of that girl I gave you for safekeeping? The one with the broken charm on it?" Shizuka says finally.

"Yes."

"What was her name?"

"Himawari. Himawari Kunogi. What brought this up? You didn't even ask when you turned over the photograph."

"You knew her, didn't you? You and Doumeki, all at the same time."

"Yes."

Shizuka is quiet for a while. "I saw the three of you together. At the beach."

"Ah," says Watanuki, deceptively lightly. But his voice sounds too grave.

"I think...I think you refused to get in the water."

"I remember," Watanuki says quietly, letting his hands rest. "I was supposed to tell Doumeki thank-you, or ask him for help, and he would have helped me into the water."

"And that didn't happen."

"No." Watanuki's hands, though lightly curled, tense. "I was content to watch."

"Were you?" Shizuka twists around to look at Watanuki's face.

Watanuki shakes his head. "Only while I didn't know what I could have had. But by then it was time to leave. But even so...if I had known what I needed to do...I'm not sure if I would have done it."

Shizuka's headache suddenly worsens without warning. "I...I think..." he stammers, pulling away from Watanuki, and Watanuki retracts his hands.

"Do you want to lie down?" asks Watanuki, hovering.

"Yes." Shizuka closes his eyes, and grips Watanuki's arm. Watanuki guides him to the couch, where Shizuka lies down, and Watanuki draws all the blinds before crouching at Shizuka's side.

"I don't like that Doumeki can overwhelm you like this," Watanuki whispers. "You shouldn't be in pain, simply because of his insecurities. Raincloud," Watanuki murmurs, and his mood abruptly turns protective. "You're  _never_  like that. You were never taught to use, concentrate, and distill your emotions like that. You are from a Buddhist family, but you  _aren't_  the son of a Buddhist priest...which means he's brimming very close."

"I doubt—" Shizuka grimaces, "—that he's aware of it."

"Then we should make him aware of it," says Watanuki. "He ought to know what he's doing to you. And anyway, I have been waiting to speak to him."

"Really..."

"It didn't seem necessary to pry into your most private thoughts simply on account of a whim of mine. I was waiting for the right opportunity." Watanuki brushes Shizuka's hair from his forehead, and leans his elbow on the couch. "How does it feel? To be touched right now?"

"Uncomfortable." Shizuka bites his lip. "Warm and sticky. But I don't want you to stop..." he says quickly.

"Hmm. I see." Watanuki thinks very hard for a while, calculating. "Must be the fever. Would you mind greatly if I kissed you?"

Shizuka groans, pressing a hand to his forehead and shaking his head. "If you had but asked at any time except now—"

"But you  _can_  bear it, for a little while? I'm asking because I need to get Doumeki's attention. If you have conflicted feelings they will probably arouse his curiosity. I am fairly certain that if he becomes protective he will take over without a second thought; this would be the quickest way. I'll try to be gentle, but I will also make you even more uncomfortable. If you could peacefully cede control to one another without me having to cast a spell or enter dreams to do so, that would be infinitely better."

"Ah," Shizuka breathed. "In that case...yes."

Watanuki propped himself up on the couch, and eased himself up until he had one arm between Shizuka and the back of the couch, and was leaning over him. Watanuki bent, cradling the side of Shizuka's head, and kissed him, half folded over his body, chest against chest, his other hand following the curve of Shizuka's ribs; on reflex, Shizuka shied away. Watanuki tilted his head, changing the angle of the kiss to better cover Shizuka's mouth, and let his tongue collide with Shizuka's.

Between one eye-blink and the next breath the kiss was broken, Watanuki was flung to the floor and pinned down by the strong arm of the archer. But instead of Shizuka, Doumeki is glaring with those same cold olive glass fish eyes, breathing hard and panting. Shizuka's eyes are technically the same color but Watanuki could swear they have more warmth.

"Knew you were in there somewhere. Relax," Watanuki croaks. "I didn't mean any harm." He keeps perfectly still. Doumeki could crush him if he wanted to.

" _What do you want?_ " Doumeki growls, without letting up. Watanuki is held fast. Doumeki's grip is painfully tight, his arms are stiff, and he is trembling uncontrollably. It's the adrenaline giving him strength, but he can't keep it up for long. Doumeki was strong, always, but Shizuka isn't like that. It wouldn't surprise Watanuki if Doumeki was unaware of the limits of his great-grandson's body. Watanuki scowls, and Doumeki continues, "Why have you awakened me? And in such a manner—"

"Forget it," Watanuki says sharply, a trifle impatiently. "There isn't a particular meaning. There isn't a manual for waking people up, but it generally involves making them distinctly uncomfortable. I had to get your attention. As for what I want—I want you to  _stop_. Think." Watanuki smiles humorlessly. "You were fighting your great-grandson's spirit, so I told him to let you take over for a while, so as to prevent further pain to both of you," Watanuki says forcefully, giving Doumeki a significant look. "Since you  _obviously_ needed to speak to someone, or at least have the mental space to allow conscious thought, and I have long wanted to have a talk with you. Figured you'd want to protect him.  _As do I._ " He holds Doumeki's gaze. "I love him."

For a moment, Doumeki's grip tightens, jaw clenching. But as he continues to look into Watanuki's cool eyes, Doumeki seems to realize that he is sincere, and he slowly eases his weight off of Watanuki's chest, allowing him to sit up. Doumeki says warily, "We can talk, but there is nothing you can do for me."

Watanuki shakes himself. " _I_  will see about that," he says sharply, drawing his legs under him. In a voice as measured and even as he can make it, he asks, "How did this happen?"

"..."

Watanuki tries to gauge Doumeki's guarded expression. At the moment, Doumeki doesn't seem resentful. Watanuki decides to be upfront with all this. He crosses his arms. "For your information, I am only intervening on behalf of your great-grandson in my protective capacity as the shopkeeper. My only concern is his well-being, which you have endangered. The history between us right now means nothing to me." Doumeki says nothing, but Watanuki can see that he understood. "Come, come," Watanuki says impatiently. "You must know, something must have happened to agitate you, or else—"

"Last night, I saw in his thoughts that the boy was planning to take you to the ocean," Doumeki answers abruptly. "I didn't think that was possible. My confusion prompted old memories, which slowly consumed my mind as I began to ponder what I should have done."

Watanuki stares at him.

Doumeki turns mulish.  _So what?_

"You," Watanuki scowls again, clenching his fists, "Y _ou_   _endangered_  your great-grandson for the sake of a small handful of petty  _regrets?_ " he screeches.

Doumeki blinked. "I was upset. I was prepared to die like anyone else."

The corner of Watanuki's mouth turns into a distinct frown. "Apparently. Did you at any time consider what that would do?"

"I..."

All at once, looking at Doumeki's dull, stupid, simple face, Watanuki cannot contain himself any longer. He explodes. "So help me— You put your consciousness into the mind of a  _child,_ " he hisses with cold fury. "Whether you knew it or not, you shaped him, and  _you_ are the one responsible for that. But you didn't know what you were doing, did you. You were simply  _flagrantly irresponsible,_ " he snarls.

Undaunted, Doumeki replies, "It wasn't what I meant to do."

Watanuki climbs to his feet. "Then what? So tell me, Doumeki, because I cannot find it out! From my perspective, you committed  _suicide,_ " Watanuki spits out. "Although it didn't appear that way to your family. Have you  _any_  idea what it was like to go through that? For all your good intentions your gamble with death almost killed me, and I didn't even know why you'd done it," he snarls. "And then where would you be? Useless and deadweight, stealing the vitality of your only great-grandson.  _That_  is what you have done!" Watanuki shouts, and the words leave such a ringing in the air that it affects him, too, and he lapses into a sort of stunned silence.

Doumeki stares at him, open-mouthed in shock.

"You risked all our lives," Watanuki continues, in a defeated whisper. "I thought you were happy, you seemed happy before, I  _knew_  you were strong enough to live past Kohane if you tried—I, I thought you were trying—" His voice is breaking.  _He just had another goal in mind, all along. I was wrong. I was wrong..._

Swallowing hard, Doumeki looks away. He's started to sweat. "I told you, Kohane helped me with it," he says softly.

"Like that makes it better for  _him,_  now he says you're becoming more aware. If this continues you will wreck your own great-grandson without meaning to because you are unaware of your effect on him.  _I cannot allow it._ " Watanuki's hard-edged voice brings a stinging snap to his promise.

Doumeki swallows. "I can't go back. It's irreversible."

The wry twist to Watanuki's mouth turns nasty. " _Good_ , then you finally listened for once. You  _should_  be frightened." He makes sure the words are cruel. "I see you made your wish, albeit brokered with another party. Whoever they are I can only hope for your sake that they are trustworthy...but you are close to attaining this wish. Do you want me to grant it?"

Doumeki shakes his head.  _No._ "It can't be done."

Watanuki whirls, stamping his feet. "Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?" he says viciously, as his robes swirl mesmerizingly around him. Oh yes. He is angry. "What do you know about it? I am Yuuko's successor and the shopkeeper.  _I_  am the magician. Only I can judge what is and is not possible!  _Do not presume to tell me—_ "

"I need more time—"

"You  _had_  time. All the time in the world!" Watanuki bellows, so hard that his cheeks puff out and briefly flare red. "I made my wish in the space of a moment, a second, and I couldn't look back, while you thought, for your whole life you pondered and you  _thought—_ You had the gift of that time and I  _hate you_. You want to know what you did wrong? You always thought, 'oh, it can't be helped,' and then you always did things for me, to protect me, but you would never confront me! You always  _took_ it, as if it was okay, and it wasn't! If it  _wasn't_  okay, and you should have fought me. You could have tried—to make me realize. Deep inside I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop, and I didn't realize that your silence—that your silence—" Watanuki chokes on the words, until he forces out, "We have to move on." His voice cracks.

Doumeki swallows. He settles back properly on his knees, hands curled tightly over his legs, accepting the chastisement. "I hate myself for it..." he says, with only a faint, thin thread of a voice.

Watanuki only now seems to realize the impact of what he's just said. "Yeah?" he says, voice falling. "Well, I liked you too. By the time I realized, it was too late, and you were already gone. And now there are other people who need and deserve my kindness. But no more." Watanuki takes a deep breath. "There is no future in us, Doumeki; you are dead to me, and you shall remain that way."

"Yes," says Doumeki, with sorrow. He agrees. "I am."

Watanuki sighs. "What did you hope to accomplish, Doumeki?" he asks hopelessly.

Doumeki averts his gaze. "I can't tell you that."

"Will you let me grant your wish?"

Doumeki shakes his head. "Not yet. I'm still...the time is not ready."

Watanuki kneels on one knee. "If you can refrain from hurting Shizuka, I won't have to."

Closing his eyes, Doumeki says, "Please. Please don't."

"But can you  _keep_  that promise?" Watanuki insists.

Again, Doumeki shakes his head.

"I can't give you something for nothing," Watanuki warns him.

"Then...then this," Doumeki says finally; he stands, taking Watanuki's left arm, and with his other hand he cups Watanuki's ear and whispers the secret words into it.

Watanuki starts. "What...what was that?" he says, shakily.

Doumeki lets him go, stepping back. "The key to my consciousness. I kept it for emergencies, for if something went wrong. If I should become unstable, should you need to speak to me again, you should repeat that phrase and you will reach me."

"Repeat them again," says Watanuki, trembling slightly. Once again, Doumeki whispers them in his ear. This time, Watanuki perceives the words clearly, and he repeats all the syllables, barely moving his lips. He won't forget.

"Does Shizuka know of this?" asks Watanuki, his fingers poised over his mouth as if the words of the spell might jump out.

"No. But he doesn't need to." Doumeki glances at Watanuki. "He won't be aware that anything has happened. That's the nature of the spell."

Watanuki can't bring himself to argue. "All right," he says, exhausted. "Fine. We're done here."

"Then place your fingers on my temples," says Doumeki, picking up Watanuki's hands and molding them into the right positions. His hands are dry now, like dust or paper, quite unlike the fever, the oppressive raincloud of emotions, for in this short time these have all gone. Doumeki, using Shizuka's hands so gently that Watanuki can't quite believe what he's doing: "Recite the spell, and put me away."

It all suddenly seems too cruel, when Doumeki puts it that way: like a doll about to be thrown into a closet and shut up in a place that is as silent as a tomb, like a naughty plaything, a toy. It comes to him in an instant: Watanuki sees himself as selfish and petulant, lacking all empathy. He must be, to do this, and he is filled with loathing for his own willingness to use the power that Doumeki has placed in his control. Watanuki can't stand to think of him like that, even for an instant; it brings the taste of bile. Watanuki looks up, into Doumeki's eyes. He opens his mouth but it is dry. He opens and closes his mouth, but though his mouth moves he makes no attempt to say a sound while his eyes mist over, lost.

"Remember," says Doumeki, closing his eyes; and for a moment he is alien, Egyptian, foreign, a frozen mummy within Shizuka's face, and for a terrible moment Watanuki remembers he doesn't belong. "Remember I am dead. I am dust and ghost. Only one of us deserves to live in this body..." His face is haggard. "I knew it was wrong...and still. I didn't know what else to do, except that I couldn't leave things as they were."

"I forgive you," says Watanuki, through numb lips. "You chose."

Doumeki shakes his head. "No. Put me away. Lock me away. You must take back the one you love."

Watanuki flinches and shuts his eyes tightly against his tears. Heart hammering, he lightly passes his fingertips over Doumeki's face and Watanuki speaks the secrets in the syllables.

"Watanuki?" In a moment, Shizuka's eyes flutter open. He gently peels Watanuki's hands from his face. "Watanuki, what happened?"

For a long moment Watanuki doesn't respond, and then he finally lifts his head. "Ah, I know what it looks like..." Watanuki mumbles, swiping his eyes. "It's not that..."

Shizuka tuts softly. "He hurt you!"

"He— No! No, it was a long time ago. We have a lot to sort out." Watanuki shakes his head vigorously. "He gave me what I wanted. He won't hurt you anymore." He tries to smile, but it's weak. "Or I can stop it if he does. Not that it was on purpose; I knew that."

"But now you're upset."

Watanuki shrugs deliberately, as much to placate his own nerves as Shizuka's.  _I have to remember that he's dead..._ "It will pass. Anyway, how are you now?"

Shizuka touches his temple. "Better. The pressure is gone." He grips Watanuki's shoulder's suddenly. "I feel as if I only traded my unhappiness for yours," Shizuka says. "Tell me what I can do."

"Nothing," says Watanuki, swallowing the lump in his throat, and steps a bit closer to thread his fingers through Shizuka's hair. "It's not your fault. It's because of something else entirely. Just be as you always are."

"Mn." Shizuka nods once in agreement.

They end up sitting on the couch, not speaking, but Watanuki leans his head on Shizuka's shoulder and closes his eyes, and Shizuka wraps an arm around him. Both have lost too much energy in the ordeal. After a time, Shizuka falls asleep, and Watanuki falls in after him, without even having to use a single spell, he careens into the darkness...

* * *

In a dream, Watanuki draws himself up and out of the darkness, the scene unscrolling before him. A mirror image presents itself: Shizuka the younger on his right, sitting on the ground and sleeping soundly, Doumeki the elder on his left, awake and almost a decade older, appearing closer to the way he probably saw himself and how Watanuki remembered him alive.

There is work to be done here. Calm, Watanuki centers himself and recognizes this. There is work to be done here, and this is Doumeki's dream.

Doumeki shrugs, silent, and looks back at where he had been staring: a tangled mess of memories and thoughts that hung in the middle, snarling without an outlet, coiling in on itself. It's rather beautiful and awe-inspiring, in its way, but it feels like a Problem, drawing tension throughout the dream and the mindscape. Doumeki doesn't have enough space, mentally, to resolve it alone: it requires too much flexibility to do the mental gymnastics without disturbing Shizuka; simply maintaining that distance is exhausting. The barriers between their minds are much too thin. If Watanuki doesn't convince Doumeki to fulfill his wish some time soon, their minds could become permanently fused. That is one possibility.

"I see the Problem. That won't resolve itself without help, will it. Will you accept my assistance?" Watanuki asks Doumeki, who nods, without resistance.

Doumeki stays mute, but he grasps one of the tendrils, pulling it away from the rest of the structure, and offers it to Watanuki. Watanuki touches the vine, and bits and pieces of the dream begin to seep across.

**why the ocean _(when you couldn't)_**

Watanuki answers the question. "I chose it because I had never seen it, and everything I heard about it sounded wonderful. I was an orphan. I saw very little of the world."

The vine shrinks, but briefly grows a new branch.

**how was it like**

"It was nice. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, so I wasn't in a place to judge. All I wanted was to see what it was like," Watanuki says somewhat wistfully.

At that, the entire vine slithers out of the structure and vanishes. The structure shifts, hanging more loosely. Doumeki reaches up, and passes another vine, this one shorter and thicker, to Watanuki.

**living through us**

"Of course I did. However you and Himawari were happy, that was enough," says Watanuki. "But I didn't know what to do with you, remember?"

Doumeki winces.

Watanuki rolls his eyes. "Well, it's nice to know you cared, back then, you know. I had this idea that you didn't, that you thought it was convenient to tag along for a free lunch or something. I didn't have a clue what you felt. If I had understood you fully, things might have been different."

Some more vines spontaneously slither out of the structure, and fade away, though Watanuki hadn't touched them. The Problem becomes more buoyant. Something seems to be working.

Expressionless, Doumeki hands Watanuki another line, this one thinner than the others, but braided.

.

* * *

 _They began to play, bouncing the ball back and forth over the clear water, but the dreamer was distracted as again and again his attention drawn back to the shore as if his eyes had been pulled by an invisible line. When the girl caught the dreamer glancing back to the white sandy shore_ _, her smile turned rueful, more real._

_The dreamer turned to the girl and apologized. He took the beach ball and waded out of the water and trudged up the sandy slope. He approached the boy, and stared at him, holding the cool plastic lightly in his hands, until the boy looked away. Still the dreamer waited. "I can't," the boy said, and it hurt him to say it. It hurt him because he was proud, which was what had made him say it, and because he did want, and he thought it would be worse to say, "please help." Perhaps it was. He was used to doing everything by himself, and believed himself to be capable of making it alone._

_"I can't." The boy's glasses glinted, hiding his feelings once more._

* * *

"Did that part actually happen that way?" Watanuki glances at Doumeki, who shrugs. It was only a dream of a memory.

This last thought was taking its time to coalesce, emerging still murkily.

**why**

"You were right. I was proud. Proud enough not to ask for what I wanted from you. But you know, I never wanted it so badly in the first place."

**me**

"I didn't want to be weak in front of my opponent."

**would it have been better**

"Well, of course. It would have been nice to swim. But I don't miss it. It wasn't what I wanted out of the trip."

**bet or no bet, I should have**

"Yes. Because that was what  _you_  yourself wanted," Watanuki says. "Regardless of what others want, you can claim it. You can express it. You should, when you can. Your choices are worth something."

This vine briefly expands, and then it begins to rapidly contract, and slithers out of Watanuki's hands. Somewhere from within the structure, a knot snaps, releasing flames; a braid frays, and the rest of the ropes fall apart. The entire structure collapses, aglow from the inside, and within moments only scraps remain, about to be consumed and disappear.

The humming intensity of the dream is gone.

 ** _Thank you. You_ have _changed._  **Doumeki touches his shoulder, closes his eyes, and he simply fades away: sleeping, as Shizuka was. Watanuki looks back over the other shoulder. Now Shizuka is waking, and the dreamscape is changing from black to white...

Rising, Shizuka walks to him. "You're not sad anymore."

"Not here, no. I have work to do," Watanuki replies calmly. "I still have. I am the wishing shop keeper, and I do most of my work in dreams."

Shizuka points past Watanuki. "Like that? What is it?"

Watanuki turns—and there it is, the bird. It is shaped like a canary, yellow and streaked with golden bands of light woven about its body.

His mouth turns dry. "It's my project. A construct."

"What for? Is it for a client?" Shizuka asks.

"No," says Watanuki, rather heavily. "It's for myself."

Shizuka glances at him from the side, questioning.

"That night you invited me to see the cherry-blossoms with your coworkers," Watanuki says, wavering a little, "I couldn't let go of your hand until we had reached our destination. But I later realized that was because, without my realizing it, my magic had been flowing back towards the shop."

Shizuka comprehends in an instant, blanching of color.

"My predecessor had a double anchor that bound the shop to our world through a pair of dolls. When I fell sick in aftermath of Doumeki's death, my strength failed and the spells on the dolls crumbled. My power was great enough that it could bear the existence of the shop ever since, but that would only work as long as I never left it. Knowing that I had paid the price of my freedom to wait for Yuuko, I never replaced the dolls." Watanuki pauses in his explanation. "That day, your touch gave my power a small boost so that my resources weren't drained past my limit. But had you not been there, or should I ever have needed to travel farther, my strength would have failed and in the worst case I might have died. So I have been working on a solution," he confesses. "In secret." Watanuki waits, unusually tense.

Somewhat more calm, Shizuka gazes up at the bird. "But it's beautiful. You've been carrying this in your mind since then?"

"Yes...although I'm sure there's a physical counterpart in the shop somewhere."

"You've been thinking about the future?"

Watanuki hesitates. "Yes."

"Then I'm happy," says Shizuka, smiling.

"Huh..." Watanuki doesn't know what to make of Shizuka's reaction.

Shizuka says, "You made a mistake, a potentially life-threatening one. I wish you had told me before, but I'm glad you took steps to make it right again. Most of all, I want you to keep preparing to make your way out into the world." He gestures up to the light yellow canary construct. "What do you need to complete it?"

"Time," says Watanuki, breathing out. "And memories, and sensations. Enough to fill up a living being with a life to add to, something that reflects me. Those I can gather. And after that—a song."

"A song?"

"Mm. It's a bird. It needs a purpose in life," Watanuki tells him. "I haven't been able to choose which, though, yet..."

Watanuki hears the song as if it's coming from a long distance, and only over time realizes that the tune is coming from Shizuka, and it is too late to stop him, for the bird has stooped to swallow the song, beating its wings:

 _Kagome kagome_ , /  _Caged bird, caged bird,_

_Kago no naka no tori wa / The bird within the gilded cage_

_Itsu itsu deyaru / When will, when will it escape?_

_Yoake no ban ni / In the dawn of the night_

_Tsuru to kame ga subeta / When the crane and turtle ruled—_

_Ushiro no shoumen daare / Who stands behind me now?_

Watanuki shivers. Shizuka breaks off the song and looks at him. "Eerie," says Watanuki.

Echoes of the song float in the distance, where the bird is attempting to practice.

"I think it worked," Shizuka says. "It seemed appropriate to you. My mother often sang that children's song to me; she said that my great-grandmother was very fond of it. I hope it protects you."

Kohane...

"Thank you," says Watanuki, still stunned.

"My pleasure," says Shizuka, his face tipped up, watching the golden bird. "And if there is anything else I can do, let me know..."

Shizuka begins to blur, and the dream breaks up and fragments into pieces...

. . . . . . . . .

...

.

* * *

"So I want to invite you to join the family vacation for Golden Week, but if it would be impossible for you to make it—"

Watanuki comes abruptly to awareness.

"No! No," Watanuki finds himself exclaiming, and Shizuka jumps, as if he had been practicing a speech in secret, and he hadn't thought that Watanuki would awake. Watanuki pushes himself to sit straight, swaying and a little flustered. "I—I would like that very much. In some time the, the, the bird—the bird will certainly be ready in time," he hastens to add, wondering if Shizuka thought he was going crazy, or if he remembered it. But then Shizuka smiles.

"I had that dream of the ocean," Shizuka continues. "With you unable to go in it. That was Doumeki's. But I thought maybe you would like the opportunity again. Although there's also hot springs."

"I will go," Watanuki murmurs, touching Shizuka's hand. "Thank you."

"No need," says Shizuka faintly. "My mother asked me to bring someone, because there was room. But you ought to be part of the family again. You  _should_  belong there. I think you will find things have changed since my great-grandfather's time."

"I may not..." Watanuki looks troubled.

"At the very least, I cannot continue to present myself to them as if I am not interested in anyone," Shizuka tells him. "They will worry. Given enough time, they would pressure me to do something."

Watanuki tips his head. "I see."

"I don't want to hide who I am," says Shizuka, clasping his hand. "And you are a part of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kagome Kagome" is the name of the children's song that Doumeki sings: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kagome_Kagome
> 
> It has several translations, but I chose the one that made sense to me, and to Watanuki's story.


	12. Wards and Warnings

In the mornings, Watanuki meets with customers. Afternoons Kochoushu watzes in the door after school and refuses to sit still, and she tracks Watanuki's every move with eyes as sharp as a beady-eyed crow's. She doesn't miss much.

 When he finally gets her settled and meditating, focused on the task of the day he has given her, she appears poised. It is still a struggle for her to limit herself to the present, and sometimes she slips into the future (to the effect of giving herself dejá vù a few seconds later). When Watanuki feels confident in her abilities, he teaches her how to spin illusions, and assigns her the task of recreating the perceptions she isolates. Watanuki makes sure the practice is for Kochoushu's benefit, but he uses her work to help him attach sensory and memory details to the canary construct he will use as an anchor. Beside her, day in, day out, Watanuki works on the same task in preparation...

Still later in the day, Watanuki shoos Kochoushu out the door and ushers Subaru onto the doorstep. Subaru receives her, looking slightly bemused, and the two set out for the park where they always practice.

Subaru is not that much taller than her  _actually_ , she muses one day after a particularly intense bout of summoning practice; but his intimidating presence makes him seem higher than her. "Subaru-san," she says, to capture his attention. She leans back on her arms and looks at Subaru, angling her chin regally at him. Then she narrows her eyes and asks, "When are we going to learn how to make a  _shikigami_?"

Subaru blinks slowly. He settles back on the wooden park bench. "Not for months yet, I think. It's a fairly high-level technique, the way the Sumeragi clan practice it. The Sakurazuka clan also," he muses, "has their own technique, which is probably more involved, and more dangerous. As a rule—" He winces and reaches up suddenly and flaps at the air over his shoulder, as if a bug was bothering him; the next moment, he hides the motion by pretending to readjust his shoulder, looking the other way.

By now she knows that he does this when the blood sakura bothers him. Kouchoushu squints at the air over his shoulder, but sees nothing. Yet. "Is—it—hurting you?"

Subaru shrugs, but he doesn't shake his head, either. "It was only curious," he says vaguely, and his hand falls from his shoulder.

"Do you need to go...?" Kochoushu makes a little question mark with her fingers, and draws a finger over her neck.

Subaru shakes his head. "No, I won't need to hunt, not for a while. What prompted you to ask about that technique?" 

Kochoushu sits up suddenly. "A-aaah..." she stalls, sensing that she has opened some kind of trap. "When you first agreed to teach me, Watanuki said he wanted me to learn it before he passed me on to you," she says neutrally, after a moment. "Though he hasn't gotten around to it." 

Subaru's green and grey eyes suddenly glint with humor. "Oh, he did, did he?" A certain amusement seeps through his nobility. Kochoushu hadn't seen him so near laughter before.

"What's wrong?"

"Ha." Subaru only laughs. "He still has no  _idea_  what to do with you."

"Oh," she says. Kochoushu's face falls. 

"It's nothing wrong," says Subaru, thoughtfully. "It's not his fault. It's just how he learned. The way he was taught—hard things first. He considers  _shikigami_  fundamental, basic." 

"Hard things... _first_?" Kochoushu said, puzzled, a little incredulously. " _Why_?" 

"Because it was necessary," Subaru replies. "Because he had to. And one learns what one needs fast, and well. After all, the hardest things are also often the most simple. After that, he never had to look back."

Kochoushu draws her knees up, and wraps her arms around them. "I don't understand."

Subaru holds up a finger. "I know. Hold that thought—I'm searching for a metaphor." He sits forward and thinks for a while. Finally, he looks up. "All right. I think I have it."

"Okay." 

"First—what do you learn first about kanji?"

"What they mean, then how to say them, and to write them." 

"But if you learned  _how_  to write them first? And then the other matters? What would that do?"

Kochoushu's brow wrinkles. "You mean, when you memorize the stroke order...?"

"Yes. It's boring when you do it that way, isn't it? Because you don't know what you are trying to do. That makes it hard. But if you can set aside the big picture for a moment, you can simply memorize the sequence."

"I suppose so."

"Now imagine that, although the task itself was still boring, your life depended on it. Trying to accomplish that meticulous thing became a little too exciting."

Kochoushu's nostrils flare, her eyes widening. " _Oh_." 

"You see." Subaru nods to her. "His first lessons were with a witch who called herself Yuuko Ichihara. She was called the Dimension Witch, or the Witch of Time and Space."

"Huh?" says Kochoushu, a little faintly, because her ears are buzzing unpleasantly. She blinks again, and the sound is gone.

Subaru is looking at her carefully.  _Perhaps I should not have told her that._  "She did not teach him per se. He was working to clear his debt for his wish not to see spirits anymore. The Sumeragi clan knows because she had written to us of her intent to do so," he adds. "Whenever a magic user is discovered, it takes special permission to remove their powers, even if it is at their own request. This is to make sure that other options can be found before...well, there are so few of us; if possible, everyone should be taken care of. He wasn't, at the time. He was fifteen, and he had slipped under the radar, and had made his wish. The Dimension Witch lives by her own rules, and those rules required her to grant the wish. She wrote the letter of explanation, and we stamped the request. We had no free practitioners left to teach him; we were busy preparing for 1999, and we had no counter-offer. But he didn't need it."

"Then what happened?" 

"The Dimension Witch never apprenticed him officially. She used him as a part-time worker. He got practical experience with hardly any prior preparation or explanation at all." 

"That doesn't sound safe." 

"Hardly. But he wasn't working with magic itself, only with the common objects and beings and customs, with which he could relate. His wits were enough, and wits can't be learned."

"I see." 

"When the Dimension Witch disappeared, the boy took her place. The office was too big for him." Subaru's voice became very quiet. "The most useful spells for what he needed were often moderately powerful. He learned them by rote, and only later taught himself the details and the prior steps that he required to make sense of why they worked. It only mattered that they did. He thought  _I_  needed you to know how to make a  _shikigami_..." Subaru snorts softly, shaking his head. "That's how it is. That's what he thinks my teaching style must be, or should be, too." He stares at the ground, thinking.

"Subaru-san. What is it?" Kochoushu prods.

He startles a little. "Oh, that. I was just beginning to think it would be a good idea to teach you after all." He falls silent again.

Kochoushu doesn't quite follow, but she lifts an eyebrow. "Why?"

Subaru shifts a little on the bench. "Well, he's right about one thing, it's just that I would never have required it; that's what I found funny. It's good to know an advanced technique or two among the basics. You never know what you might need, and you have the raw power to make it work. And the  _shikigami_  is fairly versatile for a spell of its caliber. He probably learned it early on, is my guess." Subaru stands and turns out his wrists, stretching, then lets them fall to his sides. "Shall we try?"

Kochoushu scrambles to her feet and bounces on her toes. " _Yes_!" she exclaims. "Thank you, Subaru-san!" She punches the air, hair scattering every which way. Unlike the witch he knew so long ago, she is alive and young, innocent, without restraint. Eccentric and exuberant like Hokuto. If Hokuto had lived, would she have grown into the witch's grace? May she always be this way, Subaru finds himself wishing fervently. May she always be this way. The wish leaves him aching.

"Don't thank me yet," Subaru warns her, clearing his throat. "This lesson will be difficult."

"Like I care." Kochoushu tosses her hair and spins to meet Subaru's eyes and smiles widely. Her red-brick eyes shine with eagerness and excitement. "At last, a challenge!"

* * *

When Watanuki cannot count the snippets of sensation and time he and Kochoushu have collected, he knows it is time to make the bird a physical space. He can construct the framework. He has the materials to work with, and the imagination... And he's running out of time. It is near the end of the month. Already he has less time than he would like to deal with the wards.

He sends Kochoushu home that day, and tells Shizuka not to come until he is done. The process could be upsetting to watch, and it will take a lot of time. He's not sure how it will look on the outside, since so much of it will be in his own mind. 

He sits down at the porch with a bowl of water mixed with blood at his side, sunlight from the sky above, and a bowl of bones, and another bowl of fresh flesh, and a pile of feathers. The chicken flesh is dead, but he can use the tissue to spin new flesh from it.

Beak first: hard, folded and triangular, two bumps and nostrils. A sharp tongue in the beak. A wide throat. Metal bones. Skull. Beady eyes, inky black. Down the spine, all the way to the tail. Wings. A heart—shaped just so, and beat, beat, beat—lungs—sacs upon sacs upon sacs of air, expanding, contracting—veins, arteries, an blood vessels. Legs, and spread the tail. Feathers over all: the quill, the main shaft, the vane, the down, layering, layering. Smaller here, bigger there. Fanned out here—flexible there. Now, complete. The bird must be animated by magic... 

At last Watanuki casts the  _shikigami_  spell, imbuing it with the memories of the shop that he and Kochoushu have collected. Taking one last deep, collected breath, he softly breathes out and blows the canary spell-creature forward, and the  _shikigami_ spirit of the bird glides into the object. For a moment he doesn't think the spell will take, but then the  _shikigami_  settles in, and the yellow bird blinks, and moves: "alive."

Watanuki blinks and looks at the clock. It's been twelve hours. He's been sitting outside that long and he feels ready to collapse.

Watanuki crawls inside, finds the phone and dials Shizuka. The answering machine kicks in so he has to talk, and he babbles, "Hey, Shizuka, come as soon as you get off work. Please. It's Watanuki."

On the other end, Shizuka snatches up the phone in apparent haste. "What? Hello? Watanuki?"

"Shizuka...can you come over now? Hurry. Bring food, if you can? I overestimated my strength. I don't think I have the energy to cook tonight."

"Understood. I'm at work, but I'll be over soon."  _Click._

Watanuki crawls over to the couch and lies down.

The bird has started singing.  _Kagome, kagome_...

Watanuki throws an arm over his face and groans.  _Why did I ever let that boy give it such a creepy song?_

... _kagome no naka tori wa..._ The bird stops and chirps inquiringly.

"Go  _away_ ," Watanuki mutters. "Shut  _up_."

The bird flutters over to perch on the couch, next to his face instead.

Watanuki mumbles, "How could Clow stand to make so many measly creatures like you? What if you had failed? All that effort would be wasted, huh?" The canary chirrups. "Poor thing like you needs a name... What goes with dandelions? Shall I call you Tampopo the Second?"

The bird preens impatiently.

 _No, of course not_.  _Tampopo's name belongs to Himawari_. Watanuki closes his eyes. "Yuuko liked puns. Didn't she? What do you think—Tanetori? Seed-bringer? Gathering news? What do you think, Tanetori? How would you like that, to be my messenger  _and_  my guardian?"

Tanetori utters a single keen, piercing note.

 _I guess it likes it, then._ "Be my eyes and ears," Watanuki orders the newly dubbed Tanetori, rolls over, and falls asleep.

He's roused when the thud of Chinese takeout hits the floor beside him. He blinks and opens his eyes; as he sits up, the bird startles, stumbling from his chest, and falls into hand. Watanuki cradles it unthinkingly, and it bites him none too gently. Wincing, Watanuki turns his hand and allows the canary to crawl onto his finger.

Shizuka stares at it. "That's..."

"Artificial life, yes. This is Tanetori, the new anchor to be," says Watanuki, still feeling rather woozy. "Pretty, isn't it?" Tanetori chooses that moment to walk back up Watanuki's arm and nest in his hair, looking snooty and possessive in a way that reminds Shizuka of the pipe fox Mugetsu. Tanetori beats his wings, and settles down. Watanuki's rather pliant hair now looks like a bird's nest. "He'll be my substitute."

Shizuka inclines his head.

"Right, so I'm hungry," Watanuki announces, taking the bird and launching it into the air. Tanetori lands on Shizuka's shoulder and nibbles on his ear, making the man wince. Watanuki stands up and steadies himself with a hand tugging Shizuka's armsleeve. "Let's eat before I fall over, shall we? Making this little guy was thirsty work. Did you bring anything to drink?" Shizuka hands him a bottle of green tea. "I'm going to take the liberty of going first." Watanuki unscrews the top and gulps it down, gasping, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before taking a napkin from the plastic bag. He sits heavily.

"Aaaah." He sighs.

Shizuka hastily sits and unpacks the takeout and goes into the kitchen to find suitable plates and utensils. Watanuki waits only long enough for Shizuka to serve him before tearing into his food and inhaling it ravenously.

Shizuka just watches. Tanetori sinks down to rest on his shoulder.

Finally Watanuki stops in the middle of his meal and looks up. "What?" He clicks his chopsticks nervously.

"I've never seen you eat this ravenously before," says Shizuka.

"Huh?" Watanuki blinks.

"Can you taste it?" Shizuka asks intently. 

"What? No. I needed food." Watanuki scoops another clump of rice onto his chopsticks and bites it. Then his eyes narrow. "Who told you that?"

Shizuka looks mildly unnerved. "Uh—"

" _That_  fact came from Doumeki, obviously," Watanuki says, stabbing a piece of cooked celery. "Tell him nothing's changed. I just spent a lot of energy."

"I— Okay." Shizuka settles down, and looks into himself without protest. Watanuki watches the flashes of expression that cross his face, until at last Shizuka looks up. "I see."

"He's not hounding you right now, is he?" Watanuki cocks his head to look at him through one eye.

"No."

"Good." Watanuki nods, and reaches for a refill. Shizuka swiftly takes the box and doles some out for him instead, and Watanuki frowns. "You should eat something for yourself, Mr. Bottomless Stomach. You're acting strange yourself."

"Right." Shizuka picks up his chopsticks reluctantly. "I could, but until you're done starving like a stray cat, I could pick something up on the way home..."

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, eat anyway. I'll be fine now. I should thank you for coming out here for me," says Watanuki. "Really, it was a help. I'll repay the favor sometime."

Shizuka glances at him sharply.  _He'll repay the favor? How?_ "It seemed like it." Shizuka cranes his neck to look at the bird. "So that...conversation...wasn't a dream at all."

"He actually sings that creepy folksong you taught it in my dreams," Watanuki says, in a somewhat aggrieved tone. "In your voice, too."

"Kagome." Shizuka laughs, surprised. "Well then," he says quietly, "I may teach it something else."

"Do that," Watanuki grumbles, plucking out a water chestnut. "Perhaps make it something  _cheerful_  this time..."

"Hmm," Shizuka hums noncommittally. He has other ideas. He puts up two fingers for the Tanetori to hop onto, and walks away from the couch. 

"If you're lacking something to do, I am sure Mokona will have suggestions." Watanuki rolls his eyes.

"The weather's getting warmer," says Shizuka.

"Yes."

"May will arrive soon."

"Yes. Tanetori will be ready in time. There only a few more days of preparation to bind the shop's magic to the bird's, and then I will be done." Watanuki puts down his chopsticks. "Shizuka, all will be well. I promise." 

Shizuka lifts his fingers and the bird takes to flight. He moves to Watanuki again, who stands to meet him, gazing at him steadily. "I'm glad to hear it." Shizuka nuzzles Watanuki's cheek, and kisses him lightly. "Try not to wear yourself out." 

"Of course...not," says Watanuki, pulling back. Watanuki's eyes flicker down, then up. Shizuka's hands lower to his waist, bracing him there. "I'll try not to. I don't  _want_  to." He smiles, and leans back against Shizuka's embrace, which he tightens. Watanuki says, looking into Shizuka's eyes, "But you have to understand: it's going to take all of me to make this happen."

Shizuka kisses him again. "Then it's all right. You were right to call me. Now I have to go back to work."

"I'll walk you to the door," Watanuki says automatically, taking Shizuka's arm.

"Hn," Shizuka agrees, allowing Watanuki to wrap his fingers around his elbow.

At the door, Watanuki kisses him one last time, sure and slow. When he's done, Shizuka touches two fingers to his lips and rests his fingers on Watanuki's cheek, and then he leaves, bidding him good night.

In his heart, Watanuki feels the sharpness of regret that he cannot follow.

* * *

The next day, rather than seeking Watanuki to follow him around, Kochoushu is distracted by her discovery of the new bird. She immediately crouches down on her toes to examine it. It is a soft, pastel yellow, and it is shaped like a canary, except for two crests of feathers at the back of its head that make it appear to have fox ears, and it has lovely long and curled tail-feathers. The bird chirps at her, and says, "Tanetori."

"Tanetori," she says back, and it chirps again and repeats its name. Kochoushu smiles. "Nice to meet you. Are you the price for a wish?" she asks it, tentatively stroking its feathers, and then looks at Watanuki inquiringly. Tanetori chirps.

Watanuki ignores the question. "Kochoushu." Watanuki beckons. "I need your help all day today. I informed Subaru-san."

Kochoushu tucks her hair behind her ear. "All right." She sucks in her breath.

"I want you to look back in time, looking specifically at the energies that flow through this shop. Help me identify them and put them in a pattern while I look into the present state of affairs. This will take time, but knowing where the previous owner placed the shop wards, and where they have shifted to, will aid me greatly. Depending on how far they have shifted, I may need to realign the shop's energies in addition to anchoring them. Could you help me with the scrying?" Watanuki asks politely.

"Of course." Kochoushu falls in step beside her teacher. She looks at him askance. She is a little taller now than she was when she first met him, so the top of her head comes up to the middle of his neck. He's looking back at her now...

She averts her eyes.

They start at the gates of the house and move slowly throughout the garden. As expected, there are two strong wards on both sides of the front gate and wards at the four corners of the house. There is a stray but very strong ward fixed over the garden well that leads to the Zashiki-warashi's mountain, but as it seems an appropriate placement, even possibly an improvement, Watanuki doesn't seriously consider moving it. One ward that Watanuki does think about moving, or perhaps splitting, has woven itself about the porch; originally, there had been two, and Kochoushu reports that the twin ward collapsed relatively recently. Reweaving it will be difficult, but not beyond what Watanuki can do. The clusters of ward-magic pooling around the plants, particularly the magic-affinitive ones, moved over the centuries and was currently drawn to Watanuki's herb-garden. Kochoushu discovered interesting layouts in the past that Watanuki bade her to write down so he could study them to improve and reorganize the wards' latticework of power. Lastly, the crescent towers on top of the house linked the magical structures of the shop itself to the garden wards. 

Within the house itself, the wards are less straightforward. Wards run along each of the great main beams, and into the foundation stones. Where there were cracks in the house, magic sealed them, too. Some of the lines of power followed the pipes from behind the walls. In the kitchen, there is a strong ward over the oven and the stovetop, with smaller wards over the refrigerator and the sink. In the bathroom, there is the bath. The study, which is located in a corner, has a single strong ward; likewise with the bedrooms, though the four-poster bed has special protections. The living room has a strong ward for the fireplace. There is an untethered, fluctuating ward that leads to the couch, and seems to be drawn to Yuuko's  _kiseru_. To Watanuki's dismay, there is a bad imbalance of power flooding the storeroom. In the formal sunroom, the giant grandfather clock anchors yet another ward. Kochoushu claims that certain wards are missing, and the rest are proving quite asymmetrical, spontaneously formed, and thus weak, which concerns Watanuki. He needs to consider moving some furniture around, and planning this will take another day. 

Kochoushu stays after hours to help him chart their discoveries of the ward's original and current placements on a map, and promises to draw the gardening patterns she saw as a bonus that night. In the morning, Kochoushu drops off the gardening patterns before walking off to school. Watanuki reminds her not to come back in the afternoon.

Watanuki once more pulls out the drawings of the original grounds they had completed last night and recopies them onto a more detailed sketch. He takes another piece of paper and begins fretfully sketching out the map of he wants to place the wards. The balance isn't working. Sketching it and re-sketching it brings on a headache. There is a structure to this building's construction, a logic to it that he can't seem to find, or to capture in his drawings. 

Finding himself unable to make progress, Watanuki takes a break for lunch and remembers just in time that Subaru had promised to stop by. The two teachers have a short chat over tea about Kochoushu's progress (good, but advancing more quickly than anticipated) and Subaru's decision to teach her to summon a  _shikigami_. Then Watanuki mentions something about renewing the wards and Subaru lets out a knowing, "Aaaah." 

"You say the wards are due for a change before you attach them to the anchor. Of course it would be much more tricky to renew them after they are attached, but it is also very bad to leave the wards this way for long, Shopkeeper. How long have they stood?" asks Subaru.

"At least one hundred years, but before that...since whenever Yuuko renewed them, or when the old anchors died: that's probably when they started drifting. That would be ten years ago."

Subaru winces. "It would have been better," he says, leaning forward, "if you had gotten to them sooner."

"I made a ward for Doumeki's temple before," says Watanuki. "That wasn't too hard." 

Subaru shakes his head. "You  _know_  that's different. You spun magic into the ward, and stored it in ink and paper, right? Then the Buddhists or Shintoists could move it around and eyeball where it should go. Besides, the place where the ward is going—those places aren't magic in and of themselves. No. This building is partly sentient magic. You'll need power on a scale that's off the charts even if you were the original owner and knew the ins and outs of it intimately, or else the process will be far more delicate."

"And besides that, it's off-set in time and space." Watanuki bites his lip. "That might affect things, I suppose."

"...right," says Subaru, after a poignant pause. He was starting to look slightly anxious now, though he was trying to hide it for Watanuki's sake. "Right. But...as I was saying...the wards are going to respond best to the person who built them, and secondly, for the next person to be familiar with them. You understand?"

"I've lived here for..."

"It doesn't matter. Places become...a thing of their own. And the magic of a place does too. It's unique. It turns...personable. Particular."

"I always thought so," Watanuki frowns. "The storeroom has certainly been..." 

"You must have interacted with it, at least a little?" Subaru presses. 

"Naturally. I've walked these halls and touched every cabinet, every wall, thousands of times. Cleaned it inside and out and I've done all my magic here for a hundred years. I've had to be aware of the nearest wards, and so it  _must_  know me," Watanuki insists, then continues, "I've even dealt with the sentient ward  _heigushi_  before. It can't be that complicated, can it? The shop has never manifested itself. If it could do that, I wouldn't need an anchor."

Subaru's face says clearly that this wasn't enough, and it would be easier if the shop wards  _had_  manifested, but he doesn't have the heart to say it out loud. "Then, just...loosen up the wards first, if you can. Try to work with them. Good luck, Shopkeeper."

"You're saying that if I fail, I might rip this place out of the universe?" Watanuki cocks his head and folds his arms. "I won't do that."

Subaru presses his lips tightly together, and says, "Don't even suggest..." His hands fly, making the magical gesture of unbinding.

Watanuki nods. "You're right. But I have been in that place before, and I don't fear it. I don't have time." He reaches for the door.

Subaru looks even more stricken, and he steps closer to Watanuki, his voice low and urgent. "Listen to me, Shopkeeper. If you had any...if I were you, and there was any way to put this project off, I would. I wish I could be of help, but it's not my...I've never been any good with wards. When your task is putting ghosts to rest, and dealing with the occult, it doesn't have to be. Checking them for security was all I ever did professionally, though my grandmother taught me the basics. Trust me, you must be gentle and careful with them. They are basic, simple magic and therefore the most tricky to get right." 

"I will." Watanuki twists his fingers together. "Something has always turned up." He holds open the door.

Subaru goes through and stops. "If Kochoushu-san—" Subaru bites off what he was about to say, looking torn. "You know what her specialty is, I think, if you let her—"

"Kochoushu?" Watanuki turns sharply. "Why should she be involved?"

"You must know, that child, the person who she is," Subaru stammers, "aside from you, she has to be the one who is naturally compatible with these wards—" and stops dead at the brittle look in Watanuki's blue and green eyes. Watanuki has no intention of letting the untrained girl anywhere near the dangerous stage of his pet project, where she might get hurt. "I—I've already said too much, it seems," Subaru falters. He hastily bids Watanuki goodbye, and flees. His open, aghast expression...

Watanuki gazes after him, troubled, and then his gaze drifts past the gates and down to the street. More visitors.

Kurogane and Fai pass the running Sakurazukamori as they walk into the wishing shop.  "Seems people are always coming in and out of here lately," says Fai, as a matter of greeting, while Kurogane murmurs, "Afternoon."

"Yes, it's been rather busy," says Watanuki. "I haven't seen you two in a while. And Kochoushu might be along soon, though she should get my message. Will you be long? I was hoping to get to some maintenance issues today..." 

"Oh?" Fai raises an eyebrow. "Can I help?"

"I admit it would be wonderful if you could, as a mage, but I think I will be all right on my own. It's the wards," Watanuki explains. "I'm the most familiar with them, and they haven't been tampered with in a long time. I hesitate to let someone who isn't familiar with them to touch them, although I am sure you are very skilled." 

Fai nods. Kurogane glances at him, and Fai says, "They can be temperamental, and I'm not an expert in them myself; Ashura-Ou set up the ones on his kingdom, and, as you know, that plan ended disastrously. Celes never had wards to begin with, which made it easy for Fei-Wong to open a gate and work magic there. All I know is that the more unusual a place is," Fai gestures to the shop, "the more unexpected its reactions can be. Still, you only need to call." His smile disappears as a thought occurs to him. "You're not trying this on a deadline, are you? I heard you were going somewhere for Golden Week—that's coming up pretty soon, isn't it?"

"I know." Watanuki's eyes wander over Fai's shoulder.

Fai looks at him. "But..."

"There's a lot to prepare." 

Fai shakes his head, worried. Kurogane mutters a vague threat: "If I have to call up Syaoran and have you explain yourself because you were taking risks and rushing..."

But though Kurogane's words are right on the mark, they have the opposite effect as intended, and he can see it the moment his words impact Watanuki, for his cheeks almost instantly suffuse a wounded pink. Watanuki's expression is torn between hope to see Syaoran and...something else, wrestling powerfully with two different desires. Kurogane instantly regrets saying anything. Watanuki put more than enough pressure on himself on his own.

His gaze turned savagely inwards, Watanuki bitterly shoves his feelings back into the ground. He  _cannot_... He  _will_  not... This is  _not_  the reason he is doing this...  _Why_  would he have this wild urge to...? As if it wasn't a temptation already. He  _mustn't_  rush. Stupid,  _stupid_... And it's all useless: he will do what he was going to do... As he promised... As if it wasn't hard enough to... But  _Syaoran—_  

Before his face can quite turn into an ugly scowl, Watanuki wrenches out of that train of thought and masters himself. "I'll be careful," he says, brushing off the warning. Fai and Kurogane look doubtful. Watanuki shrugs and forces himself to say indifferently, "But you must have had another reason to come by today."

Kurogane nods. "Only to pick up Doumeki-san's work address, or his phone number. We had a question to ask him about some everyday issues. Taxes, and so forth. We just got part-time jobs at the drug store down the street."

"Congratulations," Watanuki beams. "Come inside, then, and I'll find it." Watanuki ushers the pair in and walks over to a little stand in the foyer. They follow. "He wrote it down in the guest book for me not too long ago." With a little concentration, Watanuki performs a search spell, tosses the guest book in the air, and flips the book open to the correct page. "Here it is." He hands the book to Kurogane, who takes out a memo pad and a mechanical pencil and jots down the address, while Fai practices reading over his shoulder.

"You're working at the drug store, you said? The Green Drugstore?" Watanuki checks.

Kurogane nods again, still scribbling, and after a moment, Fai looks up and nods too. 

Watanuki groans and lightly smacks his forehead. "I should have thought of that. I could have referred you; I have worked with them before. You should tell the shop owners you know me. Probably haven't aged a day since... They used to have these two high school workers, Kazahaya and his partner Rikuo, and I had them do some work for me in exchange for a few services. I could have you do similar things for me. I haven't been in contact since because they haven't picked up any young people with potential magical power since those two moved on in their lives," he said thoughtfully, "but I know they collect orphans, castaways, and the like, and take them under their wing for a time. They understand. I suppose they still go by the names of Kakei and Saiga...?"

"They do," Fai confirms. "They have other names?"

"Yes," says Watanuki, "but it should not matter who they really are. If it does concern you, they will tell you. Are you both set for now?"

 They nod. "Yes, I think so. Thank you for your help," Fai says, his eyes lighting up. He hesitates before turning serious. "Please do be careful. I wish you good luck with the wards." 

Fai and Kurogane leave. They stay quiet, keeping their heads down until they are down the street and far out of earshot.

"Is he...? Do you think Watanuki will be all right? He's been acting strange," Fai whispers to Kurogane.

"Mage, you know better than me," Kurogane says in a low voice, and shakes his head. "I don't know. I shouldn't have pushed him." He frowns and quickens his pace. "He's too much like you, Fai. I should have known he's the type to hide it and bottle it inside. All the pressure that's on him, it comes from within. I couldn't hardly have done worse—I shouldn't have said anything."

"Kurogane!" Fai lopes to keep up. "He's been simmering over leaving the shop for a long time—four months now, I think? Couldn't he be patient for a while longer? I don't understand why he's acting strange  _now_."

"It may be too late. He knows what is right, but that doesn't mean he can stop rushing. Now that the end is in sight, and he's realized he wants it..." 

"Then what can we do?" asks Fai.

Kurogane takes one more stride before stopping to consider, and Fai almost runs into him. "Make sure Kochoushu keeps an eye on him," Kurogane says finally. "He might not tell her what he's doing, but he lets her in. He'll listen to her.  _If_  she knows what he's doing."

"So—"

"Fai, we'll keep an eye on the shop and watch for...whatever we need to. And we'll make sure she knows. Intercept her on the way to school or something; she passes by the Green Drugstore on the way to and from school. I've seen her through the windows."

"I can do that, but will it work?" Fai bites his lip.

Kurogane responds grimly, "It will have to." 

"Supposing we have to, we'll be throwing her into something she's not even remotely prepared for," Fai murmurs. "If worse comes to worst."

"There is no better way to test her mettle," Kurogane says hollowly. "Someday, that girl must learn who she really is. If she  _doesn't,_ and her teacher is lost..."

Fai sighs. "Out of all the possible decisions she could make, she'll probably try to take over the shop, only half understanding, and repeat the past."

"Just so. Their fates are too intertwined, and the pattern becomes too strong. If such a thing happens, the path of their lives may stabilize, diminishing the power of choice in their lives: they become trapped in old souls. Long ago, Tomoyo told that was possible. She was warning me about what might happen to the clones' fates because they rewound time. But for Watanuki, it may be even more likely." Kurogane pauses. "It's too easy. You have only to imagine a world in which Watanuki and Yuuko keep handing over ownership to each other before dying, never letting anyone else into the cycle. In the worst case, an accident in space-time might loop their lives—like the one Watanuki might be risking now."

Fai whips his head around to look at Kurogane, and his eyes widen, horrified. "Because the shop is dislocated from the world, that would make it harder for anyone to interfere and disrupt the pattern." 

"Yes. That's what we need to prevent." Kurogane's right hand fists, then relaxes. He misses his sword, its weight, its simplicity. Nothing is ever so simple.

"Then wouldn't it be better to keep her out of there?" Fai questions him. "A pattern can't begin if she's not there."

"And then we lose Watanuki." Kurogane shakes his head. "No one else can save Watanuki from himself. That's the catch. If Kochoushu doesn't break the pattern and save Watanuki's life, it's all lost anyway. Just as when we fought Fei-Wong, there was a possibility that if Fei-Wong wasn't completely defeated, history would repeat itself. But we all decided time had to move forward."

"But Kochoushu doesn't even know that there's a time to go  _back_  to..."

"That's right," says Kurogane grimly. "And if she knows, will that make a difference?"

Fai opens his mouth, closes it. His lips thin. "No. It's an even chance in either case, because if she knows, the precedent will be in her mind. She could choose to ignore our warnings anyway. If she doesn't know, she could decide to rewind time as if it was the first time the thought had occurred to her."

Kurogane clamps a hand on Fai's shoulder. "Listen, here is what we  _do_  know: Kochoushu won't let her teacher do something stupid without a fight. We have to trust her. He may not want her there, but she needs to be there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 種取り / Tanetori: "seed-raising; gathering news; seed-sowing (breeding)"
> 
> Kochoushu and Watanuki could actually survive for a while in an unmoored wishing shop, but not forever. However, there's not telling how much time might pass if that happened.


	13. Growth and Change

Bothered by Fai's and Subaru's warnings, Watanuki makes one last-ditch effort to search Yuuko's archives one more time for information on the wards and how to deal with them, or at least for information on the construction of the house itself. To his dismay, he can find little worth scrutinizing. Throwing up his hands, Watanuki begins working on the final stages of his project, and takes the time to put up magical markers on the spots where he would prefer the wards to be replaced, just in case, as his last task for the day. So that Kochoushu won't come in and walk into the middle of the spelling even though he told her not to come, Watanuki slaps an obnoxiously lettered KEEP OUT - SPELLING IN PROGRESS sign on the front gate. Sleep is hard to come by that night.

* * *

 

After all that preparation, this is the day. This is it. The end.

Watanuki claps his hands and looks about for his companions, and then he remembers. The doll girls are gone. Mokona is with Kurogane and Fai. The only ones left are Mugetsu, who is still hibernating, and now Tanetori. The lapse makes him uneasy. Tanetori is untried.

Well, it can't be helped.

"Tanetori," Watanuki says clearly, holding out his hand, and the canary heeds the call. He swoops and alights on Watanuki's finger. "Come..."

It sings, in a soft man's whisper.

_Kagome, kagome, kago no naka no tori wa / Caged, caged, the bird in the cage_

_Itsu itsu deyaru / When, when, will it go out_

As always, the hair rises on the back of Watanuki's neck, but he shakes himself out of it. He's wasting time. Watanuki closes his eyes, and raises his hands. He's tugged on the wards before, allowed them to snap back into place. This is not on that scale. This will require all his effort to pull the wards from their roots. Straining with all of his senses, he points to each corner where the wards lie, and yanks them towards himself.

The wards spring to him, bright and strong, like pillars of light and fire, pure power merges into a giant tree, weaving and braiding a trunk, and branches. For a moment it seems to be within Watanuki's control. But then it keeps growing, up, up, and up, stretching into a canopy, and then the light pours through Watanuki's hands and it forms a sparkling dome over his head, and expands, and expands too quickly for him to snatch it back. The dome thins and the wards snap back into their places as if they had never been gone, and thin into the air.

Watanuki is left grasping nothing, doubled over and gasping, trembling with effort, drenched in sweat, only to find that the ordeal has lasted less than five minutes.

The wards will be wound much more tightly now. And he has to try again.

Watanuki sits down, and takes the time to meditate. After some time he is dry again, and his breathing has calmed.

This time Watanuki picks each ward individually, or two at a time at most, and ties them down in their new positions. Yet a humming tension grows in the shop, and by the time Watanuki gets to the seventh and eighth wards, he is almost fully strung out. He fumbles the "knot," and the backlash rips the other wards out of place and sends shockwaves to their roots. The shop trembles. Watanuki tries to stand, and falls over.

Tanetori's song continues to murmur:

_Yoake no ban ni / In the night of dawn_

_Tsuru to kame ga subetta / Crane and turtle slipped_

* * *

 

On the other side of the city, the Sakurazukamori flinches and accidentally snaps a twig from the sakura tree. It writhes in his hand before dying and breaking itself into kindling.

At that, though sleepily engrossed in the middle of feeding, the tree stirs powerfully.

 _What troubles...my predator..._ Its branches sway in a mesmerizing pattern.

"Nothing," the Sakurazukamori finds himself saying, staring out into the mist. "I already sent her a warning of what I think I know. It may not be in time. I should go to her..." he takes a step forward.

A branch of the tree snakes out and strokes his cheek, leaving a heady mixture of blood and sap and nectar in its wake. The tree might hurt the Sakurazukamori, but it would not let its prey hurt itself, as this one was prone to do. Though he fights it, the Sakurazukamori's eyelids begin to fall shut, closing.

 _You can't fight me...you can't fight fate,_ the tree whispers. _Useless_.

The Sakurazukamori twitches fretfully as he falls under its fatalistic spell, and slips down the tree's roots, resting his head against the trunk. "But I wish. If she..."

 _I will take away your worries. Sleep._ The tree brushes against the Sakurazukamori's eyes, drinking his sweat and tears. Such a delicate taste, it never could understand, and the tree had never bonded before with a blood-hunter who cried so readily. It had decided, after many years, that it liked the taste almost as much as the blood that quenched its thirst. The man wasn't weak, but he was tediously delicate, and it took much of the tree's energy and care to keep him young and calm and cooperative. He had resisted submission far longer than most, and there were parts of him still unclaimed. The tree almost admired such strength, and had indulged him almost as much as it had the one before, of whom it had been fond. In retrospect the previous blood-hunter had always had good taste, better even than the tree itself. But the tree could not seem to make the new one understand. Still the tree was patient. They always understood, in the end. It was only a matter of time. _I take care of you...no one else. You take care of...no one else. That is the way. You should...accept_

"Won't..." His head lolls.

 _Hussssssshhhhhhh._ The leaves of the tree shimmered. _My predator._

* * *

 

Shortly after the bell rings for classes to end, Kochoushu finds the letter taped neatly to her school locker. When she reads it her heart pounds with a peculiar urgency that develops into outright worry the instant Kochoushu fully comprehends the contents. Kochoushu throws her school bag over her shoulder, takes off without a second thought, throwing herself into a sprint. It was lucky she had changed her shoes before retrieving the note or she might have forgotten to do so in her haste.

* * *

 

"Kurogane." The mage nudges the ninja under the ribs. "It's happening. I can feel it. The air—it's warping... It snaps." He stands stiffly at attention, listening hard.

"Wait for the girl," comes the reply, with a quiet growl that rumbles like the scrape of a knife pulled from its sheath.

Fai takes a quick breath. "I'd rather run for her." He tugs at his uniform green apron. Mokona shifts in the deepest front pocket.

"I know." Kurogane's heavy hand settles in Fai's hair, and scrunches it. They wait until Fai breathes "Kochoushu" and Kurogane surreptitiously steers the mage out from behind the drugstore counter and gives him a little push on the back. Fai almost runs into the girl right outside; they pause for a moment, and then they start to jog down the street, back toward the wishing shop. Kochoushu pulls ahead, running faster. Her long jet-black hair streams out behind her, flickering and waving eerily in the wind.

* * *

 

For the moment, Watanuki simply rests, allowing the wards to resettle, wondering what his next move should be. Tanetori swoops in the air above him, gliding in a tight circle. Watanuki can't move the wards altogether. He can't tackle them in pieces. He has to make them easier to manage, to control.

Watanuki rolls over and gets to his feet. One more time. One more time, and then he can concede defeat, he tells himself. He can see the stars... Watanuki hastily sits down again, and the ghostly apparitions go away. A little more cautiously, Watanuki stands again, and this time he feels steady. He can still do this. Once again, Tanetori perches politely on his finger, and chirps.

In all his years, Watanuki has hated the shop. He has loved the shop. He still loves it dearly. So much of his life had been spent in this place, and he thought he had been content. Yet now he has great impatience to leave it. He wants to meet Doumeki, and Syaoran, and Kochoushu, and everyone else outside, free to roam the open world. His imprisonment felt bitter as it never had before: there is so much that he has willfully missed, so much he has lost. Now that he has made his decision, he feels there is no time to waste.

If only he could bring all of his energy to bear onto the situation... If he could tear his own magic from the task of holding onto the earth and the sky and holding up the building, and fixing this "piece" to the surrounding world... If he could do that, then... Watanuki swallows and looks up at the ceiling. Then he would really be risking everything. He breathes in, he breathes out. It would be worth it. It is his wish, after all. He had been too cautious before, and now he would not. He would not hesitate, but act with complete conviction.

Power begins to gather in his palms, streaking from the shop itself, and Watanuki begins to gather it and concentrate it: here, there, he brings the power close, all of it, so much more of it than he is usually aware of, too much to stay within his own body. Does the shop contain you, or do you contain the shop? Someone had asked that question, surely...well that was the question, wasn't it?

Light streaks through the fingers of his left hand clenched around great balls of energy, casting light and shadows in tiger stripes and illuminating the motes in the air. Watanuki slowly loosens his hands until they are flat, and shapes the energy into disks, then to lithe and responsive ropes. He casts his power at the wards and pulls them towards him, decouples his own power feeding their stability and quickly replaces the connection with the magic of the bird Tanetori, waiting until he can feel the center of the shop transferring from himself to the bird on his finger, from one to the other. Tanetori grows, one moment a small canary, next the size of a white crow, then a yellow raven, then a falcon, then a golden eagle. Tanetori beats his wings and resettles on Watanuki's wrist, shrieking with delight. Watanuki tastes joy and victory coursing from his body: Tanetori becomes more and more real, closer to a personality, closer to the intention of the shop itself.

Upon meeting Kochoushu outside the drugstore, she appears vaguely upset to Fai. They quickly exchange stories in low voices and hurry down the road, and she tells him about finding the letter. Fai halts abruptly in front of the gates, pulling Kochoushu in front of him, and tells her sharply, "There's no time to lose. Watanuki has been doing big magic for a solid hour now, and I would expect he ought to run out of his strength soon. He won't like it, but he needs your help. I'll do what I can from the outside—to keep the shop bounded to the here-and-now for as long as I can—but you're going to have to help him with the interior work. Hurry."

Kochoushu nods to him very quickly, eyes wide, and pushes past the gates and the stupid sign stuck to them without another word. The strange touch of the gates makes her shiver. Halfway across the threshold, time slows down to a sickening pace. She hears her heart beat in her ears once, twice, three times, before she pitches over the invisible border. "Oof!" she lands on hands and knees. Scrambling back to her feet, she screams, "Sensei!" There is no answer.

She looks behind her. There is Fai, looking tense, but his image seems to waver, as if steam or water shimmered between them.

She trots briskly to the doors and tries to open them by the three golden handles, but the doors only shake and clatter. On instinct, Kochoushu gets down on one knee to look at the lock. She begins muttering to it, cajoling, then crooning, and yet what the meaning of the sounds she makes is completely escapes her, except that she knows she is pleading with the lock and the shop to let her in. In a few moments, the lock swings open on its own with the barest touch.

Kochoushu gets up, feeling somewhat stupid, and walks inside. The air is tense and thick with alarm, and she can feel a current of magic moving sluggishly, almost pulsing.

"Sensei!" she calls out, but gets no response. Kochoushu picks up her pace. "Watanuki-sensei—" she turns the corner to the living room and there he is. The magic current is flooding towards Tanetori, perched on his shoulder. His eyes are closed, and he is muttering under his breath. His spindly arms are stiffly held out in front of him, as if pushing at an invisible wall. Kochoushu walks in front of him, and directs her words to his face: "Watanuki-sensei!" she says once more, insisting.

His eyes flash open, blue and green, bright and vivid with horror. "Kochoushu!"

"I'm here, Sensei." Kochoushu steps forward, and says grimly, "And you can't make me leave."

"What are you—doing here, I can't—" Watanuki's arms start shaking badly. "You have to leave—I can't protect us both." _If you stay, and I fail, we'll both die._

"Sensei, let me help." He only looks at her. Kochoushu stares him in the eyes. "You're stuck, aren't you." She challenges him.

He licks his lips. "I have to keep the shop from falling apart. I thought I would have more strength. Go."

Kochoushu ignores the command. "Fai's outside. He's helping."

"Fai?" Watanuki blinks. "So that's—I felt something bracing—"

"Sensei." She needs to break through to him _now_. He has to decide to trust her _now_. "What do you need me to do?"

"I can't let go of the shop." The very tips of his fingers are trembling. "The, the wards, they need shifting."

"Okay," Kochoushu says tersely. "You're saying that if I shift the wards, you won't have to hold the shop together. Right?"

He nods once. "Take the bird," he whispers. "Tanetori contains the wards. Be careful; they're tricky. Once the wards are in place the shop will stabilize. I left...markers..."

Kochoushu coaxes the bird to step onto her finger and she pulls back. "Understood. That should help. Please concentrate, Sensei. If you can be strong for just a little longer..." she tells him, anxious.

Watanuki obediently closes his eyes again and sinks to the floor, conserving his strength. She sees his shoulders relax as he concentrates on his single task.

Now it's up to her to create an opening so he can put down his burden.

She finds the markers without too much trouble, but seeing them makes her inexplicably cross. Putting a marker here will not work. Watanuki had done his best, but even she could sense the balance was bad. Experimentally, she closes her eyes and guides a strand of magic light out from Tanetori, and tries to stick it to the marker. As she expected, no matter what she does, it won't stick or cleave to the shop at all. Kochoushu scowls. The placement is incompatible. After all of that planning, and Watanuki's guide is next to useless. Even supposing the shop would be receptive to his placement of the wards, for one thing, it is too rigidly reliant on a symmetry that is contrary the organic nature of the shop. Even if she could force the pieces into place, which she hasn't the power to do, the balance would forever on edge.

Sitting crosslegged in front of the marker, Kochoushu throws herself into meditation, hovering over and through the shop and sensing where, if anywhere, the wards should go.

They won't go. Everywhere feels wrong.

Frowning, Kochoushu returns to her body and covers her face with her hand. _I can't do this. I don't have the power to force the wards back to where they should be, and even if I did, there's no guarantee that the shop wouldn't splinter itself apart because I forced them. I have to help Watanuki. I don't know what to do. Something's wrong._

Another voice from inside her seemed to answer. The woman's.

_This place has grown. It has fed like a parasite on the magic of the enchanter who lives trapped within its walls like a beloved pet. It recognizes him, it accommodates him, but it does not respect him, and it will not trust him to govern it. It will not let slip its vulnerable secrets. But as living things require replanting, so the foundations of the shop must shift to fill this space properly. Its borders fold. Its cabinets are cramped. It will not balance. It yearns for expansion. Even now, it is trying to slip into another universe: for that will give it the room it needs..._

Kochoushu claps her hands to make a crisp, clean sound, and reaches out her hand. Wind, light, smoke and stars swirl about her.

 _You are the Witch of Time and Space. The wards know you, and you have the authority. Remind them that this place was once yours, and you have the rights to recreate them._ Kochoushu opens her hand. _Sculpt it. Craft it. Build it. Make this place, and turn it back to what it ought to be!_ Power rushes through Kochoushu's palms. And then—a glittering hive of bees. Kochoushu feels faintly surprised. These were shiki, surely, but... _Don't think, act!_ the voice commands, and Kochoushu obeys, and pushes with all her might. She becomes the swarming bees.

She divides. Half the bees hover around Tanetori, weaving scraps of wards together. The other half scatter throughout the house, and where they go, she goes with them. Where they sense pressure, she knows that is where space has folded. Then her spies came back to her, and she begins to walk the floor at a slow but relentless pace. Everything begins to happen frighteningly fast.

"Hall!" she shouts, responding to a need, and shoves the space aside with her hands, and a new hall comes to be. "Walls, now, and floor!" She stretches the sea of wood in front of her. "Turn!" The corner crooks sharply. She walks into kitchen and eases its walls gently apart, and gently adjusts the cabinetry and counter space, and fiddles with the oven and the refrigerator. The storeroom desires to plunge underground, and she obliges it with a basement, adding lights and stairs. The storeroom, nearly animate as always, plops an official-looking blank book at her feet, its pages filled with grids and columns and blank rectangles: expressing a wish for a filing system. There is some part of Kochoushu that is exuding gentle amusement at this discovery, though she cannot pinpoint the source of it. Kochoushu sighs and adjusts the room's shelving, then leaves with a promise that all will be dealt with in time. She walks back to the living room, moves on to the sun-filled parlor, and thrusts open another door and raises another room on the other side of it, one made of thick and thin glittering glass with cement floors, with firm and well-insulated doors. The room quickly becomes warm. Kochoushu blinks. "A _conservatory_ ," she begins to say, and stops. Well!

Kochoushu departs for the attics, where more space waits for her to unleash its folds. The change there is alarmingly extensive rather than detailed. The roof raises, the floors widen, closets grow, doors to nowhere open to a new room—a small study with an impressive-looking desk is inserted between two bedrooms and a bathroom. At the end of the hall, she pulls, and a set of stairs spring into existence and fall without warning from the ceiling, almost crushing her. When she follows the stairs, they lead to a rickety-looking hatch. Somewhat apprehensively, Kochoushu mounts the stairs and finds herself in a small tower. Kochoushu descends to the ground floor again and runs back to the house entrance.

After making some very slight changes there, she turns back, and returns to the living room. While she was gone, Watanuki had lit the _kiseru_ pipe. Soft smoke fills the room, making her eyes water. The smoke snakes through the house, and clings to Kochoushu's clothes.

The living room was the site of the central ward, and the _kiseru_ itself used to house a very old one. "Now," Kochoushu whispers, and becomes the bees again. The bees fly the ropes of light to the _kiseru_ , and weave the magic inside it. Then they hover about the fireplace, and drop another ray of light into the grate. The ward sets a fire burning immediately, warming the room. The bees move back through the house, finding the best spots for the wards and reporting back to carry mere gossamer threads. Wards are dropped into the tower, into a bedroom closet, into the oven and refrigerator, into the storeroom, into the entrance doors, into the conservatory, into the grandfather clock, into the four-poster, into the desk, and into the bath. Wherever they go, they take. Finally, trembling with effort, Kochoushu instinctively sinks the last ward into the foundational rock by herself, and dismisses the bees. The ward net is whole, strong, without weakness or too much overlap, and flexible too.

It is done. Kochoushu sinks to her knees, left wondering how, exactly, she had done it. Wondering how something so draining and powerful could feel like taking the path of least resistance, as if someone was directing her steps, pointing her fingers, paving the way so all she had to do was follow. She hadn't imagined the rooms, had no hand in shaping them. She had merely brought them to be. That was either the intention of the shop itself, or the wordless yet intense pressure from the presence of That Woman in the back of mind— Kochoushu was suddenly sure that a whole chunk of the experience was missing, and had nothing to do with her. She had been a vessel.

She lets Tanetori crawl from her finger to Watanuki's shoulder, and strokes its wings one last time. Tanetori chirps at her.

Watanuki's eyes flicker open. "You did it all." His voice is quiet with awe. "I was watching." So saying, he appears to relax. As if anticipating something, Tanetori suddenly launches from Watanuki's shoulder and glides somewhere behind the couch.

The well-meaning words strike a nerve. Kochoushu tries to restrain herself for a moment and promptly explodes. "No!" Kochoushu shouts savagely. "That—that wasn't even me! It was like I was taken over! Well it wasn't—I did it, but it wasn't me!" She can't allow him to think this. "If I had done it, nothing would have changed, and one of us might have died! What you were trying to do was impossible!"

"But how—"

"None of your markers were right!" Kochoushu snaps, and accuses him: "Didn't you try to figure out why?!"

Watanuki winces. "Oh. I thought..." he puts down the pipe.

"Well, you thought wrong!" Kochoushu glares at him. An angry tear slips down. "You would have killed yourself trying to fix the house the wrong way! And I can't believe you did this! Without me! Without even telling me!" Tears are filling her eyes and she doesn't know why. She swiped them away and glares defiantly harder. "I don't care if you were trying to protect me, Sensei, I'm here for you now but I don't even know what I did! You were supposed to teach me, so this wouldn't happen! You tried this when I didn't even know enough to keep you out of trouble! If it hadn't been for—if it hadn't been for—" she gulps, swallowing bitter tears. She's barely making sense. "I shouldn't have been able to save you. And if two of us couldn't—couldn't— I can't believe you thought you could attempt it alone."

That's it. Loss. These are tears because she could have lost him.

"I...I know. Kochoushu, I'm sorry." She can hear that Watanuki means it sincerely. But now Kochoushu won't look him in the eyes.

"But you—you didn't even know why it didn't work! You don't know anything!" she wails. "What if I couldn't do anything? What if I couldn't save you? What if—" She's trembling. It bothers her. "What if you need me to do that again someday, and I can't?" Her voice cracks. "I was almost too late."

"Kochoushu..." Watanuki tries to say soothingly, and grunts as Kochoushu throws herself into his arms, knocking him flat, and she proceeds to sob silently and unconsolably into his dress shirt. Watanuki looks down at her in surprise.

Sighing, Watanuki stretches out on the ground, and allows her to hold him; she has been through an ordeal. "I had to get out," says Watanuki quietly, lifting his hand to stroke the back of her hair. "I had to get out of this place, and I only realized how much I needed to very recently. I panicked, because I was desperate, and I tried to keep that a secret. I'm sorry, Kochoushu. But I couldn't put you in danger just so I could...fix it myself. I really thought I could. I didn't think that I would fail, but I knew that if I did it would be very bad, and I couldn't let you take that risk. Your hard work helped me greatly while I was preparing. I mean, I did try to prepare. I'm sorry. I thought I had done all that I could." He sits up and pushes her gently off of him, and settles her down to sit, hands on her shoulders. "I was wrong. Clearly...I didn't understand something. Something fundamental. For that, Kochoushu, there is no excuse. I am sorry."

Spellbound, she finally lets him look into her eyes, and he takes his hand away. Kochoushu sits up and moves aside, putting some distance between them again, and Watanuki rolls shakily onto his knees. They don't say anything for several minutes, but let their emotions boil off of them in silence.

Finally, Fai walks in and clears his throat from the entrance to the shop. Tanetori flutters onto his shoulder and casually nibbles on the neck of Fai's apron. Fai glances at it in muted surprise before continuing, "I hope I'm not interrupting. I just wanted to say, let's just all agree that this never has to happen again? Grounding the shop from the outside was _enormously_ strenuous." He lightly strokes the top of the canary's smooth head.

"Never," Watanuki promises. "Thank you for your help, Fai-san." Fai cocks his head and continues smiling innocuously. Kochoushu remains mildly mutinous. "I promise!" Watanuki cries.

Arms crossed, Kochoushu looks to Fai-san. "So...how far can we trust him?" she asks warily.

Fai-san shrugs. "Beats me. It's up to you." Kochoushu looks at the ground and shrugs half-heartedly.

Watanuki starts to stand before Kochoushu can move stop him. "I won't do anything strenuous for a while. Although I'm afraid we need to replant the gardens soon. But that...can...wait...'til after...Golden Week..." Watanuki appears to sigh, his legs buckle, and he slips to the ground in a faint. Tanetori chooses to flit down to the ground, and hops about in the vicinity of Watanukis' head as if to examine him carefully.

"Sensei," Kochoushu sighs with some asperity, knowing he can't possibly hear her, "You're an idiot." She stares at him helplessly, too tired to be angry or upset and confused.

Fai says, "I think we'd better call Doumeki-san now." Fai strides away to find the telephone. It seems to be taking him a while to find it. Kochoushu's not sure, it ought to have been in the entrance foyer, but it might have been moved...

Watanuki moans and moves feebly on the ground. "What? Why?"

"Could you fetch me that heavy blanket from the open cabinet?" Kochoushu asks. Fai tosses it to her, and she flaps it to spread and settle over Watanuki. Watanuki promptly collapses back to the floor and groans. "Look. You've got to let yourself replenish your strength. Stop moving about," she orders him, crouching. "Stay put, or I'll sit on you... Sensei!" she barks, and this time Watanuki freezes, and obeys.

She watches until he falls asleep naturally (as he does when he settles down for any length of time), and then allows Tanetori to hop up her arm and onto her shoulder. Fai finds the phone and makes his call. Finished, he comes back around the corner and leans his shoulder on the doorframe. "I heard what you said, that it wasn't you who did it," says Fai. "Is that true?"

"Yeah." Kochoushu scratches her neck. "I needed to do it, and I just did it. It was as if somebody else knew what to do, and I was only cooperating. Subaru-san only taught me the theory of summoning a shiki yesterday, but today I actually summoned a whole swarm." She shakes her head. "I couldn't have done that. I haven't the faintest idea of how I did it. Someone else was moving my power and my body, and they had memories that I didn't. But they belonged with me there, because they're the person I'm growing to be." The girl hiccups and wraps her arms around her legs. Tanetori hastily scrambles onto the top of her head. "But I'm not there yet. I don't know if I'll ever will," Kochoushu says miserably. "I don't know if I'm ever going to grow up. I may never know what she knows. But I wanna know who She is, at least. Because I'm sure She was someone b-beautiful. I know I probably sound crazy..."

"I'm pretty sure she paid a heavy price for that beauty," says Fai, thinking of Yuuko, but not thinking of the wishing shop rules so much as of the unfairness of life. "And who says you aren't beautiful? In your own way?"

"But I want to be her. I think when I become her, I'll remember everything."

"No, no you don't," says Fai gently. "Trust me, you don't want to become her."

"Why not? You—met her?"

"A lot of us have—Watanuki, me, and Kurogane, and some others—a long time ago. Someone very like you. Almost on another world." Fai purses his lips. "We all know you are your own person, so we didn't say anything. You had better ask the shopkeeper when he's feeling better. He knows more. Though I can't promise he'll tell you." He pauses. "Kochoushu-san, you're doing just fine. Sometimes magic is simply inexplicable. You don't need to push yourself to grow up any faster than you have to. In fact, it's probably better if you don't. Take it from someone who _was_ forced to grow up far too quickly."

Kochoushu takes a deep breath. "I know. It's just, sometimes I want to."

"I think you have more in common with him than you realize." Fai nods to the sleeping shopkeeper. He changes the subject. "The upshot of that last phone call is that this man's poor besotted lover is bringing dinner. He deserves to know what happened, and he'll probably want a few words with him. Aren't you hungry?"

"Famished." Kochoushu smiles guiltily. "Though I daresay I could help myself to some leftovers for the time being, if he has any in the fridge."

"Exactly! I say it's a reward for a hard day's work. We'll have Kurogane over after his shift ends. Speaking of which, I need to get back there, too. Can you stay with him?" Fai asks.

"Of course." Kouchoushu smiles wearily at Fai. He bids her farewell, turns, and promptly vanishes from her sight.

Kochoushu moves the blanket away from Watanuki's face and strokes his cheek with slow, even swipes of her thumb. "You still don't get it," she whispers. "You have someone who loves you, and you're not alone, even if you used to be trapped here. I'm sorry I shouted at you. I was scared. When I understood what you did, it frightened me."

She pulls away. Something in her always crumbles when she looks at Watanuki. She's drawn to her teacher, but it's not attraction, not even a crush. It's not romantic love. It's only that she's fonder of him than she should be. She wishes only that he could be safe and happy. Sometimes she feels older than him, like he's a boy in need of guidance, and it doesn't make sense, not when he's guiding her. He feels like family. Sad family.

Tanetori softly croons,

_Kagome, kagome, kako no naka no tori wa / Trap, trap the bird trapped in the past_

_Itsu itsu deau / When will, when will it meet?_

_Yoake no ban ni / While it was still morning_

_Tsuru to kame ga subetta / crane and turtle slipped._

_Ushiro no shoumen dare? / Who now stands behind my back?_

* * *

Shizuka walks in that night with dinner again, more haggard than usual. Fai and Kurogane are done with their workshift; they have helped themselves to the shop's liquor cabinet and are drinking quietly and playing cards over a low square table in the corner. They nod to him, motion to the doorway, and continue talking. Shizuka leaves the plastic bag of food on their table, and directs his footsteps to the living room as silently instructed. He finds Kochoushu lying in a limp heap, half sprawled over another chair beside Watanuki's body, having fallen asleep herself sometime midway through her watch duty. Shizuka carefully steps over her legs to a safe spot, and crouches to rouse Watanuki, brushing the sweaty bangs from his eyes.

Watanuki's eyes flutter open, blinking more and more slowly until he awakes. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. You're a sight for sore eyes." Shizuka kneels and gently turns Watanuki's face, sweeping his cheek softly with his thumb, and keeps his tone gentle. "Fai told me everything. Did you do this because of me?" It's an important question, but adding pressure won't help him get an honest answer.

Watanuki sighs. "Yes...and no. I rushed it because I was eager to meet you. But I could have done it anytime as I became more and more desperate to leave. You merely gave me a deadline, and forced me to plan. If you hadn't, I might have tried it without a plan at all. I think that would have been worse."

Shizuka hums, seeming to accept that. "And Kochoushu?"

"She saved me. I tried to make sure she wouldn't be anywhere near here, because I knew I was being...reckless... I didn't want her caught up in it. But I was betrayed. Subaru warned her, and Fai ran with her here to help, and she saved me." Watanuki takes Shizuka's hand from his face and places it over his chest, over his heart. "I owe her. Yuuko...is going to be much more present in her life now."

"Did you misjudge your strength?" Shizuka asks him.

"Both yes and no," Watanuki answers. "I have a huge amount of raw magical strength—more than I expected, actually, once I had disengaged it from the shop—but not enough stamina to sustain it and control it while every ounce of it was working at once. After some time, I realized I was grappling with both the containment of the shop and also of myself. I didn't have anything left to lift the shop back into alignment with this version of Earth, or to tether it securely, much less to relocate and strengthen the wards."

"And now?"

"Kochoushu warded it as it was meant to be, and I was able to tether it. As you probably saw...the architecture of the shop has changed."

Shizuka looks around. The rooms do seem...odd, different from before, but also more solid, less like a sleepy someday-it-might-be and more like a firm should-have-always-been. He blinks.

"Perhaps it matured," Watanuki murmurs.

"What are you going to do with all of your strength now?" Shizuka wonders.

Watanuki shrugs. "Naturally, I must learn to control it. That ought to be a full-time job. Did you know that there is a class of enchanters who have so much power, they can make things happen simply as they speak? And Yuuko once knew a man so powerful, he stopped her death with just a thought."

"You won't become like..." Shizuka halts.

"Gods, no," said Watanuki. "I will do all that I can and do everything in my power to stop that from happening." He shudders. "I know my own desires all too well. I couldn't bear such a fate, and that man couldn't either."

"But if your power continues to grow..."

Watanuki shakes his head. "It will grow a little, yes, but not unchecked as it did before. Now that my power has nothing to feed, the need for increased power is gone, when I finally cut all ties to the wishing shop then over time my power will begin to diminish and fade. That is what I intend to do."

And Shizuka says, "Very well."

Watanuki asks, "Are you angry?"

"No. I am not angry," says Shizuka. "I am disappointed, but also greatly relieved." He casts his mind about. In the back of his mind, securely locked away, he knows that his great-grandfather is wound with a slow-burning anger, one cloaked in concern. "It was I who tempted you," Shizuka says, and he feels Doumeki turn, his mind, focused and tense and heavy like a sinking stone, until all his attention is riveted on Shizuka.

Watanuki shakes his head. "No. I never intended to tell you how much it meant to me; you couldn't have known. Please, don't be sorry."

Shizuka clutches Watanuki's hand. "I don't think that's possible." He can't help it; Doumeki's frustration seeps through somewhat, like a fever. And some of it is his own.

"We're alive, aren't we?" Watanuki says vaguely. "Somehow. That's all that matters. That, and that I love you."

"And I, you," Shizuka says, and looks at him for a moment. "You bother us. You make us hurt for you. I don't want you to ever be hurt again. We don't want you to willingly walk into danger alone again." In one fluid motion, he picks up the shopkeeper on one knee and stands. Watanuki obligingly hooks an arm around his neck. His feet dangle from Shizuka's other arm. The blanket over Watanuki slowly slips to the ground. Watanuki is always so unnervingly light, like a hollow-boned bird, like he's made of air and sunshine and dew and cobweb and precious little else. Sometimes that's what it seems like. And Shizuka thinks, he deserves more earth. More substance.

"I have the strength to stand on my own now, you know. Where are you going?" Watanuki cranes his neck to look up at Shizuka.

"To where no one will disturb us," Shizuka replies. "I'm of half a mind to bind you to me, if you'll have me. Immediately." Shizuka turns and steps carefully back over Kochoushu, and walks through the living room, where Fai and Kurogane scrupulously pretend not to see behind their fans of cards, and ascends the stairs to the living quarters carefully. Shutting his eyes, Watanuki turns his face into Shizuka's neck and inhales his scent, woody and clean and calm, and Shizuka gently lets Watanuki down onto the bed, and sits beside him. "I must show you what I mean," Shizuka says, and waits.

Watanuki sits up and looks at him, incredulous. "You want me...now?" Shizuka nods. "What changed?"

"I want us to be permanent. I want you to be permanent." Shizuka takes off his jacket, and unbuttons his shirtsleeves. "I want you to feel the desperation that I feel to make you stay." He opens his collar.

Watanuki exhales. "Yes. Me, too." He already aches for that. "I want to stay. I always have." He feels dizzy. "You—both of you—need to know that."

"You scared us today," says Shizuka, parting the button of his shirt. "You could have died. In my head, Doumeki was angry, and worried, and hurt. It was hard to push him away. And I care for you more than ever, but you can't keep on this way, or I will become like him, bleeding whenever you do. Or before you do." The shirt goes over his head. "I need proof. I want you to prove to me that you're alive and that you like it that way." Shizuka's chest is lean and beautiful in form, far more robust, the muscles unimpressive to look at but quite firm. His dusky skin looks warm to the touch.

"Through sex." Just to be clear. The hysterical urge wells up...but Watanuki doesn't quite laugh; he doesn't want to.

"Do you follow? I want a memory that won't ever go away, that belongs just to us. I want you to have it with me." Watanuki meets Shizuka's dark olive-green eyes. The urge to laugh mercifully dies away as quickly as it sprung up. His mouth goes dry.

"Yes. Yes, I want you to know me. Now." Watanuki kisses Shizuka and falls backwards, pulling him with him. Shizuka kisses him roughly and undoes the fastenings of Watanuki's clothing, and pulls each arm out of the sleeves one by one while Watanuki kisses a line down his jaw and readjusts to meet his mouth, guiding his face with his hands hungrily. Watanuki pushes and pulls Shizuka's pants down, and Shizuka strips himself out of his boxers and trousers and socks, tossing them across the room. Watanuki's underwear comes off more awkwardly, but at last they are lying skin against skin, light against tan. Watanuki needs a moment. Shizuka smooths his hair and reassures him it's all right as Watanuki trembles.

"Too tired?" he asks, after a moment, but with no hint of disappointment or reproof in his voice. It is simply a matter-of-fact question.

Watanuki shakes his head. "No. But you'll have to..." Watanuki stretches and winces. "Take me. I can't do you. Not today."

"Ah." Shizuka pauses, and gently suggests, "I will, but you should take a moment to explore and touch me. It's no good if you're not comfortable, I think."

True to his word, Shizuka stays very still while Watanuki passes his cold fingers over Shizuka's body, flinching only when he nicked his ribs and touched a fairly deep scar over his belly. "What's this?" Watanuki asks, pressing the slight dip in the skin tissue experimentally. "I think it was an accident," says Shizuka, quite unconcerned. "I fell during a hiking trip and landed on a large sharp rock. It took a chunk out of my flesh, because it cut deep. I was younger then." "And this?" Watanuki strokes a long slice along his arm. "An underclassman's arrow," Shizuka replies. "I was teaching them, and they neglected one of the rules of safety. I should have been watching more closely, so the fault is partly mine." Lacking a reply, Watanuki kisses Shizuka, and moves with him, gradually getting more comfortable. When they're done, breath escapes from Shizuka with a soft chuckled sigh, and another light kiss. Watanuki grips him tightly in readiness. So Shizuka whispers, "Yes, I'll take you now."

And he does. Shizuka takes every inch of Watanuki. He is driven and taken relentlessly, relentlessly, until he cannot possibly feel any more, until Watanuki has cried out from the exquisite pleasure, a cry unexpected and heedless of volume, it is _life_ , and the effort leaves Watanuki panting and squashed flat to the bed, and Shizuka is nearing the last of his own strength. Shizuka picks him back up and comforts him. Shizuka curls around his body and wraps his arms around and protects him with his warmth, and kicks and drags the blankets over them both, and makes sure Watanuki can still breathe. They have breathed the same breath. Legs tangle. Shizuka whispers, _I want you, I love you, I love you_ ; and in his ear, Watanuki whispers, _I'll try to live, I want to live, I'll stay I'll stay I'll stay with you_ , and rejoices for one last tie that can never be broken, until every pore leaks tears of happiness, not sweat, and he is dreaming, because that simply isn't possible but it is truly wonderful...and the one who lies with him holds out their hand in his dream, and says, _See, I am here. I am yours, your shield, and you are ours, our eyes._ _Let us go forth together, and it shall not be undone, as it was meant to be..._ And Watanuki believes, in this dream, just for once, that could have been true.


	14. Familiar Unknown

By early morning, Watanuki's guests are gone. Once Kurogane and Fai cleaned up all evidence of their quiet drinking party, they escorted Kochoushu back to home, waking her up just enough to pry her address out of her and lead her stumbling down the road with Fai holding tightly onto her wrist so that he could drag her to safety should a car come up behind them.

Kochoushu slept into the next day and woke up around midnight, heavy and disoriented but too awake to sleep again. It was a nice night, with cool clear sky with a bright moon she could see from her bedroom window. Kochoushu slipped out of bed and took a quick survey of the house—her mother and father were already sound asleep. On impluse, Kochoushu fetched the house keys and a light sweater, walked to the front door, and crept outside. Then she found the place where she had last parted from Subaru after magic lessons.

It didn't take long before she found what she was looking for: traces of the Blood Sakura...and a fainter and sorrow-tinged aura, that of Subaru's. Of course she had not heard from Subaru since she had found the note he had spelled to find her locker the day before—or was it two days before?—but she wanted to speak to him. Subaru would have forbidden her to look for the Sakura. He wouldn't approve, but perhaps her news was important enough to risk an encounter. And something about the aura... Her heart began to beat. The emotions she was picking up from it, churning and dreamlike, awash with some kind of suppressed stress, told her that something was very, very wrong. Her mind urged caution. Her heart told her that disaster was not a possibility, but a certainty.

She began to run. Her feet carried her clattering down the road, following the direction of the aura. She skidded to a halt as the Sakura loomed suddenly before her. The feeling of all that was dead and _wrong_ blossomed in her heart, and she knew with certainty that Subaru was not all right.

"Subaru-san!" she yells, frantically searching for him in the clearing, and at the same time scrambling frantically backwards from the towering cherry tree, whose limbs had begun to agitate. He's not there. But he must be... " _Suuuu_ baru-san!" She paces at the edges, watching the Blood Tree warily, ready to run if it reached for her.

"Kochoushu..." She hears his sigh. It comes from higher up than she expected, and she squints, looking up through the sakura flowers, peering through her fingers. He's up there, all right, high in the tree, among a tangle of thick branches; she can just barely see his head.

"It's me, Subaru-san! Kochoushu! Are you all right?" she shouts, pacing the ground below him.

"I..." Subaru groans, and the wood also groans, cracking open and splintering at the edges. Pieces of bark fall to the ground. Subaru's torso emerges with a sharp jerk, hanging limply upside down. "You're not...supposed to be here..." _And he was supposed to protect her_ , the thought came, and that jolted him awake, sick with muddled horror and a dread in his stomach.

Kochoushu doesn't answer, for Subaru looks as if he is about to fall at any moment, and she is busy spot-checking him from the ground.

 _Subaru,_ the tree rustles, whispers, so soft no one else can hear, _mine hunter,_ and it pulls away its slender branches, thins its vines and releases its petals. Subaru begins to slip, and to panic. _Yours...on your...mark...her...yours....to mark_

The green embrace snaps, but it's the words that terrify him more than his utter powerlessness to prevent uncontrollable descent. Subaru falls through the thinning foliage, his raw scream cutting through the scattering shower of pale pink flowers. Down on the ground, Kochoushu grits her teeth and instinctively _shoves_ at the air and wind until Subaru slows down, it's not enough — but the tree has other ideas, and it uses its own magic to rapidly grow new branches and dispose of them, guiding Subaru's descent and catching him out of free fall until at last it lowers him to the ground. As quickly as she dares, Kouchoushu drags him to his feet and shoves him roughly to sit on the sidewalk, away from the branches, looking over her shoulder the whole time. It wasn't anything she had done that had freed him: the tree itself had chosen to let him go, doubtless for its own purposes. But for now it doesn't seem to matter. The Blood Tree vanishes as quickly as it came.

"Subaru-san! What happened?" She crouches over him, worried.

Subaru stares at her. "What were you—?"

"Looking for you! I can feel it, I know you've been stuck in that tree since you sent me that note about Watanuki, haven't you?" Kochoushu says, upset. "That's why you didn't come yourself. What _happened?_ "

"I got too involved." Subaru forces himself to sit up, and regrets it. His stomach wants to revolt...

"According to who? Ugh, Subaru-san, your skin and clothes are covered in sap..." Kochoushu wipes her hands on the rough asphalt, grimacing.

"According to the Blood Sakura." Not one to know when to quit, Subaru staggers to his feet, and almost immediately trips and stumbles to the side of the road. Falling to his knees, he vomits in the gutter. The vomit is unnatural-looking, a thin but foamy mix of sickly yellow-pink and dark amber churned together. It doesn't look like human consumption. It can't be good for Subaru's gut.

Kochoushu says, "I don't understand."

"So it decided to 'take care of me' for a while." Subaru wipes spit from the corners of his mouth. "Because I'd become — overwrought. Then you come along." He coughs. "Shit..." He feels like it. The Sakura long ago honed its sap and its nectar into a human drug; weaned from it prematurely, of course he would be feeling its nasty aftereffects. Having been through this before, he knows the _really_ nasty ones will kick in after another three hours. "You shouldn't have been there." Speaking of which, what happened to the wards he erected against her? He touches his shoulder, and feels a pang. He must have fallen on it.

"Why not? You said you would tell me if you went hunting," Kochoushu says. "You didn't say."

"I wasn't...hunting. You shouldn't be near the Sakura at all," Subaru rasps. "Especially now."

"You're repeating yourself." Kochoushu frowns. "If I _hadn't_ come, the Sakura would still be stealing life from you." Probably. It wasn't like she had done anything to make the Sakura drop him, which puzzles her.

"That's not..." Subaru is about to explain, but doesn't, for the truth is a paradox. The Sakura gives life only in order to take life later on, and it will take his own life sooner or later, so Kochoushu is right enough. "I don't want the tree to take an interest in you," he lies—too late, the tree already has, if its whispers about _marks_ mean anything. But if Kochoushu knows, she won't hesitate to take worse risks, thinking she has nothing to lose. "It's dangerous." _He's_ dangerous. But he's not in love with Kochoushu, will never be in love with Kochoushu: surely he should not be compelled to mark her... "I'm sorry," he says, thinking as furiously as his befuddled brain will allow him to, and talk at the same time; "I suppose I should be thanking you."

Kochoushu shrugs. "I thought the risk was worth it."

No, that's not... "Just promise me you won't go back there again, Kochoushu," Subaru demands, and he doesn't mean it to sound condescending, but as soon as the words come out of his mouth it really does.

Subaru looks shocked at himself and Kochoushu laughs. "Are you kidding me? No! Of course I won't go back on a whim, or if you are on the hunt, but if you're in _danger_ it can't be helped. I won't make a promise I am only going to break."

"I wasn't in danger." Physically he could hardly have been safer, though his mind had surely been succumbing, dying bit by bit to mad dreams. It wouldn't be permanent. He had suffered them before.

Kochoushu folds her arms. "Subaru-san, I really don't believe you."

Subaru pushes himself to his feet, reflecting that he's never been a good liar, and heads for the silver benches by the bus stop, where he sits, and Kochoushu follows him. Subaru doesn't know what to say to make her obey him. She's a sensible girl with her own way of assessing risk. Without more information, information that he doesn't wish to give, she can hardly take his warnings seriously.

He opens his mouth, and shuts it. "Tell me what was so urgent that it brought you here to find me in the middle of the night, then. At least, I assume it's the middle of the night." He looks up at the moon.

"The re-anchoring of the wishing shop was successful," Kochoushu reports.

"I would assume so...?" Subaru looks at her dubiously.

"It almost didn't work. It was—a day ago, I think. I spent most of today asleep." Kochoushu presses her lips together, waiting for his reaction. "I came to find you as soon as I awoke."

The blood drains from Subaru's face. So Watanuki's endeavor really had gone that badly. He almost couldn't believe it.

Kochoushu squeezes her hands together and gulps. "Subaru, I have to tell you something."

"Tell me," he says immediately, turning to her with his full attention.

She closes her eyes briefly, and opens them again, and forces herself to speak. "I think there's...another presence...in my mind," she tells him, getting the words out with effort. "Recently I have felt that something was missing, as if there was a piece of myself that wasn't myself, that hadn't actualized yet. Like a future self. But I realized today that was wrong. That person...is someone else, with their own will, their own past memories and experiences, someone very close, very similar to me. And they've been locked away from me since I was a small child." She lightly touches the tips of her trembling fingers together, and looks up, momentarily breathless with anxiety.

"What happened? What caused you to realize?" Subaru asks her, intent.

"When W-watanuki failed," says Kochoushu, "I had to help him re-anchor it. He hadn't realized that the structure of the shop itself had changed."

Subaru finds himself clenching his fists. "Go on."

"The wards wouldn't take until the physical nature of the shop could take shape. I did that." Kochoushu takes a deep breath and flicks her fingers. "Or rather, the person inside me did, and I allowed her to take over, because I didn't know what to do and suddenly she was awake, she was _there_. I summoned a single _shiki_ that morning, you remember. _She_ summoned an entire swarm."

"You knew you would never be alone again," Subaru says slowly.

"Ye-es," says Kochoushu, controlling herself tightly. "I don't think I can be _un-_ aware of her now. But I don't even know who she is—I—you don't think I'm—"

"Kochoushu." Subaru takes her lightly by the shoulders. "I can tell you right now, you're not crazy, and you're not possessed." She relaxes, and he lets go, with a nod. "What do you want to know? You have a right to know."

"What do you mean?" Kochoushu asks, still frightened.

"I had reason to suspect you were a reincarnation," Subaru tells her quietly. "And what you have told me just now tells me I wasn't wrong. That is what you described to me."

Her heart beats strongly in her chest.

"I'm sure you have questions about her," Subaru says heavily. "And I may have the answers you seek. But before you ask, you should think about whether you want to find out the answers for yourself."

Kochoushu swallows, almost in relief. "Yes. That's what I want."

"Good. It is wise." Subaru smiles at her, though his expression is weary. "I can give you guidance you on how to find out, but for now I think that would be better left for another time."

"Thank you."

"You must tell me more," Subaru says at last, "But we must part. I need to recover from the tree's toxins, and you should sleep. When we meet again, we can talk. Is it enough for now? Can you walk home safely?" He stands up, reeling just a little.

"Yes." Kochoushu twists her hands together, filled with relief. "It's not far, only a block or two away."

"Then I will take my leave here, today," he replies, and presses a hand to a suddenly aching forehead. He still has a detoxation period to undergo. "Where is the nearest bus or train station?"

Kochoushu points him in the right direction and talks him through the way back. They part, and Kochoushu walks home. Once in bed she tries, only semi-successfully, to sleep. She tosses and turns, and when she sleeps, her dreams are unsettled.

Time and time again, the visage of a woman with long dark hair and a pale, ghostly face floats in and out of the murky reeds of darkness behind her eyelids, but she does not know it. She feels like she should recognize it, with the disconcerting perception that this other face is only reflecting her own, if she doesn't know it, then she does not really know herself. But it is not her, this other face, for surely it is not tethered to her body at all...

 

* * *

An eye opens. Sunshine pooling by the window, still yet early in the morning, for the expanded room is much brighter than Watanuki is used to. The eye shuts. Watanuki molds himself closer to Shizuka and drags the blanket around to block out the light. Shizuka adjusts and resettles, grunting softly in his sleep. Watanuki fades.

* * *

Steam is clouding up Watanuki's lenses as he cooks. He whips them off and wipes them on his apron, glancing at Shizuka in the interim. Shizuka looks dangerously close to nodding off. Eyes closed and head slightly bowed, Shizuka sits hunched in a chair with his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, dressed only in his boxers and, curiously, white cotton socks.

Watanuki turns back around and pushes his glasses back up his nose, blinking. No need to hurry...

* * *

Breakfast is quiet. Watanuki clears up the plates as usual and takes them to the sink. Getting ready to wash the dishes, Watanuki plucks a towel from a drawer and hangs it over a hook on the wall, squirts some soap into a crumbling yellow sponge, and cranks up the hot water. All at once he becomes aware that Shizuka has followed him, and is hovering behind his right shoulder. Watanuki turns his head to the right to protest, and Shizuka zips around to his left and doesn't budge, though he's right in the middle of the washing up process.

Watanuki looks at him and silently calculates how much effort and indignity it would take to shove him out of the way.

Shizuka looks back at him, equally stubborn.

...The answer is 'far too much' and even Watanuki has to admit that he probably won't succeed.

Shizuka sticks out his hand. Watanuki puts a plate in it. Fine.

* * *

He's not quite sure how he let this happen. He ought to be the one doing things, taking care of Shizuka, but that's not quite how it turned out.

Soap washing down his back, and water raining painfully hard about the ears, it drips down his chin. Watanuki squints. Shizuka pulls the water back, and the spray becomes gentle again. "Sorry," says Shizuka, hanging up the nozzle. He touches Watanuki's head gingerly, as if expecting him to flinch, but Watanuki closes his eyes and leans into the pressure as Shizuka's fingers slowly work shampoo into his scalp once more, and even wash behind his ears. The soap drips past his eyes, soft and clean and gentle. It's not so bad, being taken care of. It is quite nice after all...

He opens his eyes again, ignoring the sting, and narrows his eyes at the bathroom tiles. There's a memory, or several, that he can't access, of soap and water and something...so long ago, when he was a child, when he was half as tall and . . . much bigger hands . . . and someone. . . fleeting—

It's gone.

Watanuki presses his hands into his eyes, suppressing a deep sigh. Doumeki picks up the bucket at his feet, and offers it to him. Watanuki takes it, takes a deep breath, and dumps it over his head in a rush.

Shizuka gets into the bath first, Watanuki after; the steaming water rises to the brim of the tub and only just doesn't spill over. Shizuka beckons, and Watanuki moves over to his side of the tub, where Shizuka wraps an arm around him. Watanuki rests, contemplating only the warmth and the ripples of water. The soreness left over from the day before goes away for a little while.

* * *

Watanuki pulls on the yukata hanging on the door, rummages in the closet for the spare and throws it to Shizuka, who catches it deftly. Watanuki marches down the hall back to their room, and throws open the wardrobe. He looks at them for a while. Shizuka enters the room behind him and quickly dresses in his clothes from the night before.

"Found anything?" Shizuka asks, drifting closer. It surprises him that Watanuki would have trouble choosing how to dress.

Watanuki shakes his head. "Nothing's suitable..." Suddenly he reaches deep into the closet, and pulls out a hanger. It's his school uniform, coat and blazer. It looks pitifully small beside him now. Shizuka scrutinizes it, and shakes his head.

Watanuki hangs it up again, sighing.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something I can go outside in. Something normal." Watanuki pauses, pensive. "I know, I know I could wear something from all this, but—" Watanuki waves a hand at the clothes packed inside the wardrobe, and shrugs helplessly. "It would get wrinkled. And I'm going to visit your family." Watanuki puts the tips of his fingers together anxiously. There's a lot that goes unsaid...

Shizuka gets it. "You want anonymity."

"I think it would be best," Watanuki says, thinking regretfully of the history, and wondering if the ones who remember it still live. Probably. "I do not want to become the Shopkeeper to them. I'm just...I should just be a person."  _If that is even possible._

Shizuka says, "I understand," and lightly kisses his cheek. Shocked, Watanuki rubs the spot, wordlessly affected and feeling somewhat at a loss.

Shizuka crosses the room and takes out his cell phone. A moment later he had dialed Kanako, and asked her to meet them in the city for a shopping expedition. Judging by the sounds emanating from the cheap and tinny speaker on Shizuka's phone, Kanako seems excited.

Watanuki rummages in the closet again and finally remembers the suit Shizuka bought him for the hanami company picnic, and puts it on. Shizuka drifts over to tug on his shirt and helps him tuck it in.

* * *

Doumeki and Watanuki fill Kanako in on the purpose of their errand with a little more detail, building Watanuki's cover story at the same time. Watanuki has just been released from the hospital for what is hopefully his last time, and he's looking to rebuild his wardrobe since his life went on hold about five years ago. Not knowing much about current trends, he wanted help picking out a style to start with.

Kanako couldn't be happier. Once informed of the exact nature of her mission, she pulls out all the stops, rifling through coupons and online deals like nobody's business. She quizzes them on taste and drives them from store to store. With her, the shopping goes quickly, and Watanuki begins to accumulate a steady pile of young hipster clothing.

Kanako and Shizuka are satisfied when Watanuki can vaguely pass for a college student. By that point Watanuki is also ready to quit, fairly sure the things he has found will fit the image of Shizuka's family will expect: a young professional, comfortable, current, somewhat introverted, not at all out of the ordinary. Shizuka worries Watanuki won't stand out, but he keeps his concerns to himself.

Near the end of their trip, Watanuki cocks his head as if listening, then ducks into a tiny folklore shop and tells Kanako and Shizuka to wait for him outside. Somewhat puzzled, they do, and Watanuki comes back soon with an unobtrusive bag and a satisfied and somewhat smug expression on his face.

"Something about a wish?" Shizuka asks him in a low voice.

Watanuki glances at him, and then his eyes slide smoothly away from Shizuka's. "Yes, in a manner of speaking," he says. "Not a new one, the shop's owner was an old customer...and it was about time I checked in on him, or he checked on me, actually, it didn't much matter." He lifts the bag, clearly more pleased with the outcome than the details of the transaction, and chuckles to himself. He won't show Shizuka what the contents actually are, however, and when Shizuka brings himself to ask out loud, he only laughs and returns to being secretive, though he promises, "You'll see."

Kanako leaves just before they purchase Watanuki's suitcase. They bring it back to Shizuka's place and Watanuki dumps all of his shopping bags into it, tags and all, and crams the case closed—there isn't time to wash the clothes first, as they had hoped—and have a hasty dinner. Then Shizuka and Watanuki, quite exhausted, stumble onto an overnight bus that evening, heading south for warmer climes.

* * *

"How does it feel going home?" Watanuki asks the question casually. "I mean, back to family?"

With great difficulty Shizuka lifts his eyelids to peer at him, and shifts his bulk so it isn't sprawling over the lowered seat quite so much. "I don't know..." His muscles ache, so he stretches to work them out, and then sits up and looks at Watanuki properly.

Watanuki is perched on his seat, leaning on the window, watching the sunrise flicker bright and golden over the tops of trees and the mountains; it is around five o'clock in the morning. "Surely you think more than that," he says quietly.

Shizuka doesn't answer.

"How long has it been, then?"

"Two, three years."

"I see."

It had been long enough. Shizuka hadn't really expected to get away from them longer than that.

"You just don't seem..." Watanuki trails off.

Shizuka shrugs.

Watanuki peers at him. "What will we do when we get there?"

"Get lost, probably," Shizuka says in a low, resigned monotone. "I would prefer that."

Watanuki blinks.

"Or we can visit my mother, if you want," Shizuka offers, shifting restlessly. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

"Sounds like a good idea," Watanuki says cautiously. "Then you can show me around the ryokan?"

Shizuka laughs shortly and says, "That I can do. I suppose that could prove interesting..."

Avoiding people for the sake of the activity itself was probably pretty boring, Watanuki surmises. Maybe even a little too easy. He turns his attention back to the window.

"Aren't you going to lecture me about family values or something?" Shizuka mutters.

"No. I wouldn't do that." Watanuki tucks a fist under his chin. "It's just the way things are. It would be poor taste to criticize your family relations when I have none of my own. I don't know how it is for you."

"But you're looking forward to this."

"Oh, yes," says Watanuki, without turning around. "I'll relish it. I've been wanting a good chat with the Doumekis for decades. Although I don't suppose Doumeki's death endeared me to them. Still..." he lapses into silence.

Shizuka checks his watch. One more hour to go.

* * *

"Looks like we've arrived."

Watanuki turns his head to look outside the window again. "It's pretty early still..." They're pulling into the parking lot of some grounds. There's a tall wooden fence on the other side, and a gate; beyond that is the path to the main building of the ryokan.

"Yeah."

"Someone you know?" Watanuki points to the shadowy figure waiting by the gate.

"At this hour? It couldn't be." But just in case, Shizuka cranes his neck over Watanuki's shoulder, who tries to crouch down. The bus slows to a stop.

It's his mother.

"How did  _you_  know?" Shizuka rounds on him.

Watanuki laughs evasively. "Oh, she's walking toward us..."

"We'd better get out," Shizuka mutters, and grabs his bags, ducking his head.

Watanuki raises an eyebrow, collects his stowed belongings, and hastily follows Shizuka, who is already clambering down the walkway to the front. Shizuka handles his last transaction with the driver—Watanuki bows and says the necessary niceties—and they disembark. Shizuka's mother runs forward immediately to set upon her son. Watanuki snickers and attends to the luggage once the bus driver has opened the storage for him, keeping an eye on them from the corner of his eye.

"Shizuka! Stop right there! Let me see you."

"Yes, Mother..." Shizuka almost rolls his eyes, but he allows the embrace, and even returns the hug just a little at the end.

"You're here." His mother steps back and clasps her hands together.

"And you're  _early_ ," Shizuka mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

His mother tsks. "I asked for your arrival time. What did you think I was going to do with the answer? If I hadn't come, you would disappear and I would surely lose track of you," she scolds. "I know how you think!" At this, Shizuka rolls his eyes, a gesture she ignores, only too happy to foil Shizuka's plans for quiet disappearance. "Did you bring anyone? I could have sworn you wrote—" Leaning to see past Shizuka's height, she spots Watanuki. "Ah! Shizuka! You haven't introduced us!"

Having extracted their luggage, Watanuki steps back and straightens; the driver slams down the storage doors and climbs back into the bus. Shizuka's mother marches forward, towing Shizuka after her, who is beginning to look ever so slightly abashed under the intense spotlight of her attention. "I am Doumeki Noriko. Nice to meet you." She nudges Shizuka. "Shizuka,  _please_..."

"This is my friend, Watanuki Kimihiro," Shizuka supplies, doing his best not to say it stiffly.

"Thank you. It is good to meet a friend of Shizuka's at last. What would you like to be called?" Noriko asks eagerly.

"Watanuki is fine," says Watanuki, smiling. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Noriko-san."

Noriko is charmed.

* * *

Shizuka's mother shows them to their rooms, where they dump their luggage, and then leads them to her own suite. Shizuka's father is absent, but he should be back soon with the newspaper, she says, as he's always been an early riser. She pours them both a cup of tea and fetches some snacks, and they sit down. She asks them about their journey, and so on, and about Watanuki's background (Watanuki admits he has none to speak of, besides dropping out and the hospital, though his hobbies might be of some use in finding a job), and Noriko moves on to inquire about Shizuka's job, which Shizuka does his best to answer her questions as succinctly as possible so she can move on to some other topic.

The first awkward moment is when Noriko asks when they met, and Watanuki looks to Shizuka to answer. After a long pause, which does not go unnoticed by Noriko, Shizuka tries to flesh out the "hospital" response they cooked up at the company picnic and refined while talking to Kanako. It does not go over as smoothly as they hoped.

"Oh, but Shizuka," Noriko says in puzzlement, "If you had such a friend in high school, why didn't you  _tell_  me?"

Shizuka shrugs. "You were busy. I went to visit him after class, you see, and it was only every so often. It wasn't like he could celebrate birthday parties like everyone else..."

Watanuki is about to say something about not remembering birthdays and therefore it being pointless, which while somewhat truthful would really have been a terrible explanation, but Noriko beats him to speech. "Shizuka! That's not the point. I could have helped with—with snacks and things." She continues to look puzzled. "Is that why you came home so late after archery?"

Shizuka shrugs again.

Noriko peers at his face, small creases edging between her brows. "Hm. If you say so." She sits back. "Did your father know of this?"

Quite despite himself, Shizuka is shocked enough by the question that he tenses.

So his father doesn't know. A funny expression passes over her face. "I see." She tilts her head. "Hunh."

"Why do you ask?" Shizuka says cautiously.

"There were things that you talked about with your father that you didn't mention to me, as a boy. I heard some things," Noriko says vaguely. "From your aunts. They were very..." she slices the air with her hand at a sharp downward slant, for negativity. "So I thought it could have something to do with the beliefs of his family, if you hid it from him. You know, I get along with my mother-in-law and the rest well enough, but I still hate to be alone at these things." She reaches forward and clasps Shizuka's hand, just for a moment, and lets go. "Thank you for coming, Shizuka. I know it's hard..."

Shizuka tilts his head a little bit, and nods without speaking.

" _Did_  you feel like you had something to hide from us?" Noriko asks. Tears prickle her eyes.

Shizuka looks away. "Yes."

"Shizuka," she says, mouth dry. "Have I..." she presses her hands to the table and briefly rises to her feet, and sinks down again. "Did I ever make you feel like you couldn't talk to me about..." she trails off, looking pale and stricken, and she darts a swift and distressed glance at Watanuki. "...about..."

"No," Shizuka rushes to lean forward to reassure her. "No, surely not. You never gave me a reason to fear."

"Then why...?" Eyes filling with tears, Noriko whispers, "I didn't think you had friends, let alone..." She looks at Watanuki again.

"Someone important," Watanuki supplies for her, with a soft laugh.

She nods, then, and tries to smile. "Yes. It is true?"

Watanuki nods. "Just recently."

"Do you love each other?"

"Yes," says Watanuki.

She wipes her eyes, laughing in that way that also sounds like a sob, and bends forward, pressing her chin into her hands. " _Shizuka_?" She barely squeezes out his name. " _Yokatta_ ," she breathes. "I'm so—so glad."

There's a long silence while they watch Shizuka ponder over how to put words to his answer, and Noriko's hands slowly fall from her face. "I didn't think," Shizuka takes a deep breath, "I don't think I knew how to explain things back then. He was my secret. And, well, if you knew that I liked him and that he was dying...or that we thought he was dying..." Shizuka shrugged, painfully, hugging his shoulders, and his expression was unhappy. "It wasn't normal. It wasn't happy. Maybe you would have been supportive of us at first— But when you realized what that  _meant_ — You would have tried to distance us for my own good. At least, at the time, I thought so. And I didn't want to lose the time that I had." A note of bitterness creeps into his voice. "I was afraid...no, I was ashamed."

Noriko dips her head, presses her lips into one thin line, and thinks about that. The seconds tick. Shizuka and Watanuki wait.

Finally she lifts her head. "I think I understand."

"Mother," says Shizuka, leaning forward. He inches one hand forward across the table.

She sighs and takes his hand. "Thank you. I understand it now." She grips his fingers. "Thank you.  _Thank you_  for coming."

Shizuka swallows, and Noriko squeezes just once, and releases him.

"This...this love," Noriko says slowly, "it's not new, is it?" She looks at Shizuka.

"Sort of," Shizuka mumbles, and turns his head to Watanuki, seeking help. "I mean, I always... But we only..."

"It was new to me. We only started dating once I got my notice that I was in remission, and could leave the hospital," Watanuki quickly explains, with a smile. "So, less than a year, officially."

A few seconds later, they hear the key in the lock. The door opens smoothly, and Noriko jumps. "You boys just relax—your father must be home," she says, and she takes the kettle to the stove and makes herself look busy.

The face is, of course, all too familiar-but-different to Watanuki, although the face's owner's hair is graying, his cheeks are slimming, his eyes are stamped by crow's feet, and he wears frameless rectangular glasses: but all in all, he doesn't appear that old. Doumeki never did. The man is dressed all in black and dark purple and green, and his manner is quite unruffled. "Morning..." Shizuka's father nods to them, gesturing with the newspaper in his hand, and takes a seat at the table opposite them without giving any hint that he finds their presence out of the ordinary. Noriko places a cup of tea by his right hand, and steps around him.

Watanuki whispers to her, "Doumeki-san's first name is...?"

"It's Ranka," she whispers back. "You can use it if you wish. He won't mind. No doubt you knew Shizuka by that name first."

Watanuki nods and nudges Shizuka. "Do you think it's time to go?" he whispers to him. He only hopes Ranka didn't hear him. The tips of his ears flush. Ranka calmly unfolds the paper and lays it on the table.

"You seem familiar," Ranka says to Watanuki, eying him over the tops of his glasses. He squints just a little, and then his face relaxes into a cool, reserved smile.

"Ah..." Watanuki bites his lip and waits.

Ranka looks at him wryly. "It must be my memory playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn I saw a picture of someone who looked a little like you in one of the family albums, I can't remember which. But the resemblance is uncanny. Of course, you can't be him," he says casually.

Watanuki crosses his fingers. "I see."

"Just a warning. You never know who else might have seen the photograph. They may remark on it." Ranka inclines his head. "But I am sure you only have to explain who you are, and it will all clear up. I trust you can take care of yourself."

That's enough— The hair stands up on the back of Watanuki's neck. Shizuka's father isn't guessing. Ranka  _knows_  who he is. "Of course," he says, mouth dry. "Thank you, Ranka-san."

"Father," Shizuka says, voice low.

"You know what this means, Shizuka." Ranka looks at him mildly. "Regardless of what  _I_  think." Surprised by his tone, Noriko turns around, her eyes flicking between her husband and her son.

Shizuka's heart pounds. "We haven't talked."

"No. We haven't." Ranka fixes an inscrutable, razor gaze on Shizuka, and it's almost worse than outright disappointment. "You've been scarce of late. I suspect you have just straightened things out with your mother, and I expect you should also come by and speak with me before the festivities get underway." Ranka picks up the newspaper again, and spreads it. Discussion is over. Noriko presses her lips together, looking uncertain and worried.

"I'll come by at lunch," Shizuka murmurs, and stands up, and Watanuki stands with him.  _Time to go?_  Shizuka nods, and they push back their chairs and head for the door.

Noriko turns around, distressed. "Oh, dear, is it a Doumeki matter after all? I thought...but... Do you really have to go now?"

"We're a little overtired from the overnight trip, Mother, and it would be good to rest. I'll be back later," Shizuka says softly.

Noriko turns to Watanuki, eager to say her piece before he can get out the door, and says a little desperately, "Please, I'd like you to know that you're welcome to stop by anytime. Do come back."

"I sincerely appreciate the offer," Watanuki replies, polite as ever. "Perhaps if I have time, when you're not busy."

"Of course." She smiles quickly in relief. Shizuka and Watanuki exit, and shut the door.

* * *

"That was...intense," Watanuki says, after a while. Shizuka nods mutely, looking rather stunned. "Are they going to talk? Your parents?"

"Maybe." Shizuka shivers and shakes his head. "I don't know. They usually avoid talking about Doumeki things...like she was saying, the family business, the gossip—it upsets Mother."

"Why is that?" asks Watanuki, impatient, but fascinated.

"I don't know. She grew up in a smaller, much more tight-knit family. She says the infighting in ours can get to be a little much and it's not worth keeping track of. That we're all posturing because there are real positions and heritages at stake, and family itself becomes too political when there are so many people with similar ambitions." Shizuka lowers his gaze to the ground. "She says we're competitive, and that's only the parts she knows about. She's not wrong. In this case...I don't know. She might change her mind and ask. I don't know if my father feels like he needs to tell her or not, yet."

 _I wonder what changed,_  Watanuki wonders. From what little Shizuka spoke of his family, he didn't think the family was like that then. And certainly not in Haruka's time. Oh, if only they could get back to private space right away, so they wouldn't have to worry about who is watching... "Sounds like human nature," Watanuki says at last.

"Yes." Shizuka looks tired. "Shall we rest? I think I will have lunch alone with my father today."

"Of course you must." Watanuki pushes himself off the wall, and follows Shizuka down the hall to their pair of connected rooms, whose numbers he really must remember—322 and 321. "Shall we unlock the middle door? And the mattresses?" He seems to be in a hurry, for some reason.

"Might as well bring them over," Shizuka reasons. They pull the futons out of the closet.

"Over here, out of the sunlight? And close the blinds." Watanuki pulls top futons off of the other to flop onto the side. Shizuka draws the fanlike, heavy curtains, the light illuminating him briefly in profile. When he has drawn them all the way across the window, most of the bright sunlight is thoroughly blocked out to Watanuki's approval.

"Okay. Close the door?" Watanuki takes off his glasses and puts them on a desk. Shizuka closes the door, and Watanuki crosses the room and puts a hand up to his cheek. For a while they just stand there like that, Shizuka's eyes closed and leaning into his touch, Watanuki nearly motionless, until at last he reaches his other hand to Shizuka's shoulder. Watanuki tilts his head and Shizuka meets his leisurely kiss, and as Shizuka puts one hand on his back and another at his waist Watanuki's hand slips from his cheek down to the back of his neck, and they kiss harder, their bodies coming closer and closer, until a somber pine-green slow-burning fire is burning in their bodies. They sway. Shizuka pushes Watanuki down to the mattress, and positions himself on top of him. Watanuki shifts to get comfortable, and his hands grip Shizuka's shoulders.

Shizuka has never seen Watanuki get this physical before, this fierce. Something seems off. He's in an odd mood... Shizuka leans forward for another kiss, but again, something doesn't seem right, as this time he meets resistance. "What's wrong?" Shizuka pulls back and lowers himself a little, and the pressure eases.

Watanuki sinks into the mattress and lets his hands loosen and fall, and he crosses them loosely over his stomach, Watanuki lying there limp, as if he's suddenly been drained of energy. "You lied for me. To your own parents," he says tonelessly.

Shizuka nods, his eyes not leaving Watanuki's.

"I don't understand." Watanuki blinks. "How you did it for years."

"Kimihiro." Leaning on one arm, Shizuka brushes the unkempt hair from Watanuki's forehead, and caresses his cheek.

"What?" Watanuki looks shocked, like he's been suddenly doused with cold water, as if hearing his name this way was not unpleasant, but—frightening?

"I didn't lie. I omitted." Shizuka strokes his face. "What I said back there was true. You were my secret and I fell in love with you far before I was ready. I was ashamed but I couldn't give you up. You weren't dying, you were living forever, but it came to the same thing—you were unreachable. You know that. You know how it looks, and right now that's what my father sees. You know how unfair it is, because as soon as you realized, you were already acting to protect me from you." Trying to maintain his balance on his forearms, Shizuka sweeps a hand across the futon.

"You had no  _friends_." Watanuki's voice cracks.

Shizuka rolls onto one arm to face him. "But I had you."

"I don't count." Watanuki wipes his face roughly.

"Before we were lovers, we were most definitely friends," Shizuka corrects him. "You can't count and  _not_  count. Besides...I had a few in college, and elementary school. Middle and high were a little rough, that's all."

Watanuki sighs, turning his face to rest on the mattress. "I just didn't realize...that you sacrificed so much for me and I didn't realize.  _Again_."

"Not talking about you actually saved me a lot of strife," Shizuka points out dryly. "The more truth I gave, the more questions my parents would have, and the more they would want to check my story. By leaving you out, I evaded all of that.  _And_  I kept my parents' trust, which kept my movements free. That conversation was difficult and some trust is gone now, of course, but it's probably nothing that can't be regained. I  _am_  a fully self-sufficient adult now, so they can't tell me what to do." Shizuka lies down again. "Hardly a sacrifice on my part."

Watanuki groans and covers his eyes. "Stop ruining my illusions!"

"Then stop wallowing in self-pity," Shizuka says sharply. "You're not responsible for our decisions."

"I know." Watanuki hunches slightly and rolls onto his side, and removes his hands from his eyes, slowly, staring into his palms.

"Is it that you hated lying  _for_  me?" Shizuka asks, after a minute. "You did really well at it, today."

Watanuki shakes his head quickly.

"Good." Shizuka's breath tickles Watanuki's ear, so he shivers.

"I was just stupidly upset, because I didn't know they knew so little, though I suppose I shouldn't have assumed..."

"I'm sorry. You're right, I should have said something." Shizuka gently squeezes his shoulder. "You hide your emotions almost too well sometimes. Maybe you don't even realize you're doing it."

He hadn't known it was happening like that, but now that he thought about it, usually Watanuki was a little too good at broadcasting his feelings. But lately... Right now, in this place, Watanuki hasn't felt so separate from his emotions...since after Doumeki died. He can't remember exactly when the compartmentalization began this time. Was it when he left the house? Or even before he decided to fix the wards? Why here? Why now? Can't he be calmer than this? What's wrong with him...? But the questions only seem to unhinge doors and unlock boxes Watanuki had been ignoring for quite some time now. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. Watanuki rolls again, bringing his hands to the sides of Shizuka's face this time, as he tries to smile shakily. "It's just everything...this place..."

"Welcome to the real world," Shizuka smiles softly back at him. "Kimihiro."

Such a wave of undefinable emotion passes through him that Watanuki shudders. "Shizuka. I'm here." It sounds like a confession. Watanuki's hand grasps uselessly at Shizuka's arm, with barely the strength to catch on his sleeve.

"I know." Shizuka kisses his forehead.

Watanuki wraps his arms around him and clutches him tightly. "I'm  _here_!" he says, and bursts into tears.

Shizuka tucks him under his chin and holds him just as tightly. "Kimihiro, yes. I know," he whispers, "Yes, I know," over and over, while Watanuki stifles the ache in his voice by crying into his chest, and Shizuka listens. Even bitter tears don't douse the faint flicker of happiness for Watanuki, and that is precisely what makes this time so painful, accustomed as he is to the dull drone of winter and slow decay, to the dissipating smoke of the wishing shop where time passed monotonously, ponderously, where there were no accidents and where nothing ever changed and secrets and their artifacts were safely held in trust, waiting to become inert. His time there was a dream, and life is far more messy. Shizuka knows what this weeping is. It is the pain felt at the beginning of all new things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shizuka's mother's name, Noriko (意子) means "feeling/thought-child." I think Noriko is a common, rather plain name.
> 
> Shizuka's father's name is Ranka (乱花), which usually means "orchid"-something but with these kanji the first syllable means revolt/rebellion/war and the second is flower. This particular spelling is unisex.


End file.
